


Of Moons, Birds & Monsters

by shiboo



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cannibalism, Discrimination, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hallucinations, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, No mpreg, Omega Will, Slow Burn, Very Minor, Violence, minor Will Graham/Alana Bloom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiboo/pseuds/shiboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is left deeply disturbed after his altercation with Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Alana Bloom cannot conceal her concern over his ever deteriorating state as she convinces Will to admit himself to the hospital. However, little does Alana know that her worry for Will’s well being has his world burning down as he is outed as an Omega and at no worse time than the world’s biannual Alpha Exchange, in which Alphas fight to the death to secure mating rights to their particular Omega of interest. And perhaps, even more troublesome to Will, he has captured the interest of renowned Alpha bachelor, Hannibal Lecter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Even Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever fic! So don't be too harsh with me. :) 
> 
> Okay this starts in the middle of Apéritif so everything has happened. The stuff with Elise Nichols, the conversation between Jack and Alana, and so on. However Hannibal is not involved at all, so that means no meeting in Jack's office and no girl found in the field mounted on a deer head.
> 
> Also I need to mention that in this story Omegas are straight up discriminated against (and really for no good reason), but I'd like to state that I certainly don't believe in discrimination of any sort, however I needed to apply it to my story for things to really make sense.

_Even flow, thoughts arrive like butterflies_

_Oh, he don't know, so he chases them away_

_Someday yet, he'll begin his life again_

_Whispering hands, gently lead him away_

_Him away, him away…_

* * *

   Regardless of the amazing advancements that have graced the 20th century there are traditions that have held firm: Christmas trees, football, hamburgers- just to name a few. However perhaps the most deeply ingrained into the culture has been America’s favorite past time, the biannual broadcast of the _Alpha Exchange_ , which till 1989 was known as _The National Alpha Mate_ _Death-match_. Since then the _Exchange_ has become international. An invitation is sent to Alpha’s across the world, but every season is still held in Philadelphia despite the global nature of the _Exchange_. Tradition is tradition after all. Though some of the more oblivious of the population believed that along with a name change the practice has become far more civilized, this is not the case. It is just as barbaric and murderous as it’s always been, but now it just includes many more Omegas and Alphas. 

     Omegas have all but given up in their fight against the _Exchange_ , but they waged it well. In America it is common knowledge that Omegas backed the abolition movement in the north that produced the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments which ended racial slavery and was a small step in the right direction to stomp out racial discrimination in general. However Omegas contributions are often whitewashed as attributed to their sympathetic and caring nature, not actually knowing the value of right and wrong. Nonetheless, Omegas pushed on in the fight for equality with the Omegan suffrage movement of the early 1900’s that secured the 19th amendment that granted Omegas the right to vote. And with the Civil Rights Act of 1964 they thought their civil rights would be assured.

     But still they struggled. Omegas were denied jobs in certain fields, always paid less, always discriminated against and valued less than their Beta and Alpha counterparts. Laws against said discrimination were put in place but rarely enforced. And still not much has changed. There was a time when Omegas agreed that though they can tolerate the blatant bigotry on a daily basis, there was nothing more horrifying and demeaning than _The National Alpha Mate Death-match_. They rallied tirelessly against what they considered “arranged mating”, the savage display of violence and death, and the very public nature of the event itself.

     Alphas shot right back that it was not only _natural_ to fight to the death for one’s mate, but also wildly romantic. They further stressed the importance of American tradition and maintained that "to the death" was the preferred means to an end, for a defeated Alpha may become murderous and dangerous to the winner and the Omega.  They brushed off the notion of  “arranged mating” and claimed that this method of mating created a level playing field for all Alphas, regardless of class, race, gender or wealth, and widened the horizon of potential mates for Omegas. With the backing of several studies conducted by so called _credible_ doctors, they asserted this practice eased the pressures of choosing a mate off the delicate shoulders of Omegas and placed the burden onto that of the Alpha, and therefore is preferable to any other methods such as dowries, auctions, or dating (a practice only typically employed by Betas). However to appease the Omegas, the Alphas in charge made a simple name change and expanded the event internationally to coincide with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The world smiled at the _great progress_ Omegas had made and everyone gave themselves a nice pat on the back for it.    

     And so the Omegas resolve slowly gave as their demands for real change were ignored, petitions denied, and rallies silenced. So they resided themselves to their fate and learned how to find joy in the rights they did have. They learned how to enjoy the company of the Alphas they were to be mating to and Omegan sons and daughters learned it too. No longer did anyone question the validity or morality of the practice. The battle was over and the _Exchange_  emerged victorious.

    But that is not to say that all Omegas were willing to follow the road that society had set for them so easily.

 ***

     In the early morning of a bright September day, in the middle of Minnesota and far from home, Will Graham threw down the morning paper with a frustrated groan. Just as every year past around September 1st the headline read _The Exchange: This Season’s Alpha Bachelors_. It made Will sick to his stomach to be reminded of such a feral practice that left Omegas at the whims of the so called _superior_ Alphas. He gripped his bottle of suppressants and downed a pill, with it he pushed the _Exchange_ from this mind.

 Having displayed himself as a Beta for nearly twenty years, Will knew the _Exchange_ shouldn't be at the forefront of his mind while more pressing matters were still at hand. His thoughts turned to rack over the Minnesota Shrike, over the evidence collected from the returned girl, Elise Nichols, and over the killer’s “golden ticket”. While disturbed images of Elise ran on loop in his brain, Will stood up from his cheap motel kitchen table as he heard a firm knock on the door. After Beverly had found the little curly piece of metal stuck in Elise's nightgown Jack ordered that all probable sites be investigated for potential suspects, the killer most likely being that of a bumper, steamfitter, or some sort of tool worker. And Will was to be accompanied by a local police officer to visit several construction sites in Bloomington and Burnsville. Signing, he pushed on his glasses and stepped out to greet the uniformed officer.

 ***

     Together Will and the police officer searched through the employee files at their first site in Bloomington. It’s a half a hour before Will pulled out the file of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. A pipe threader. 

     “Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Left a phone number, no address,” Will said to the officer as he continued to look over the file and the man's letter of resignation.

     “Well that doesn't make him our guy, now does it?” replied the other, uninterested.

     “All the others left addresses. He also missed work for days at a time.”

     This was enough for the officer and he agreed to visit the Hobbs residence.  

     They first transported a few boxes of files into the police car before they made the relatively short trip to a pleasant house of stone siding, surrounded by lush trees of green and gold, providing enough privacy without being totally secluded from others in the neighborhood. A warm sunshine fell around the September afternoon air and Will popped a few aspirin, mind spinning around Hobbs, their lead suspect.

     Will got out of the vehicle and was halfway up to the front porch when Hobbs shoved his wife out of the home then slammed the door shut. Will ran up and knelled at her side. Mrs. Hobbs clutched at him, gasping for air, throat slit and stabbed so many times. He looked at the women, seeing that she was gone, Will pried the slick red fingers off his arm. He motioned for the officer to call for SWAT before he pulled out his .38 from its holster and kicked open the front door.

    “Garrett Jacob Hobbs, FBI!” Will yelled as he shakily made his way through the home, gun pointed, nearing the noises of struggle from inside the home.

    Will came in to the kitchen to find Hobbs holding his own daughter trying to get to her neck with a knife, her struggling with her chin tucked down. As Hobbs began to slit her throat, Will unloaded a shot at Hobbs, and then nine more before he fell to the ground. Will rushed to the girl then. Her blood pooled out onto the kitchen floor. Will saw that Garrett Jacob Hobbs had gotten through the windpipe, but not the arteries as he pressed an unsteady hand against her wound to stop the bleeding.  The daughter looked at the Omega with wide glazed eyes and at her father sitting on the floor murmuring "See? See?" until he fell over dead.

That was when Will lost his faith in .38's.

***

    Jack Crawford walked through the halls of the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. It had been a week since the Minnesota Strike case had wrapped up and he wondered how his best profiler was coping with the incident. He mused Will would not be pleased to see him, but nonetheless was curious as to his condition. He had told Alana that he could cover the profiler at least 80%, and he had failed. Despite closing the case, it left a bitter taste in his mouth knowing that Will suffered as a result. Killing a man, even a man such as Garrett Jacob Hobbs, came with certain implications. The memory became haunting. Jack knew this from experience.

    However as he continued through the Academy the Alpha recalled Will had once been a homicide detective, but lost his job due to his inability to use his gun when necessary. But this time around use his gun he did.

     As Jack turned the corner into the classroom, rather than Will, he found Alana Bloom lecturing the young minds. It was a moment before the Beta noticed Jack’s presence, but when she did she strode over, looked him in the eyes and said “You said he wouldn't get too close”, before turning a way to address the class once again.

***

     Will stared at Abigail Hobbs as she lay comatose in the hospital bed. A tube down her throat. A bandage covered her pale neck. Wires hung from her arms, one to an IV and another to a heart monitor. He slumped down in a chair close to the young girl.

    He grasped her hand.

***

     A two story house stood alone amongst the miles of forest that is Wolf Trap, Virginia. With an inviting front porch, white panel siding, and a firm chimney, the home held a peculiar charm. Inside the walls were a deep dull green with a few paintings hung about. There was no significance to any of them other than the fact they simply filled an empty space. The downstairs was cluttered mainly with a vast variety of books, motorboat parts, and fishing gear. Scant pieces of mismatched furniture filled the rooms while numerous dog pets took up the floor.

   The cheerful barking of dogs filled its halls, but it did nothing to ease the burden that Will’s mind carried. Even though his pack was usually a beacon of happiness in his rather secluded and dreary life, today they could not raise his spirits.

   Since returning to Wolf Trap Will found all his thoughts lingered on Garrett Jacob Hobbs and Abigail. He felt a certain sense of responsibility for the girl, having orphaned her at the expense of his actions. The Omega rationalized Hobbs must have seen the police car roll up into his driveway, prompting his violent assault against the family. He was thankful she had been transferred to Johns Hopkins Hospital, for traveling to Minnesota to visit her every week would've been rather inconvenient, not that he’d complain.           

   Though he thought often of Abigail most of his mind was consumed by Hobbs. Will could recall every intricate detail. The way he hesitated, for just a moment, gun aimed. The pull of the trigger. The force that ran through him as the bullet was propelled from the chamber of the weapon. The snapping sound that rang through his ears. And then six more times after that before Hobbs was on the ground. How the profiler had reached out to the girl, fingers slick with her blood. He was shaking, unstable. But when it was quiet the Omega could still hear Hobbs whisper “See? see?”. But Garrett Jacob Hobbs was dead, Will has the one who had killed him. And in the moment in which the life fell from his eyes Will felt, good. _He liked killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs._

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and instead he turned his attention to Buster as he pressed his cold wet nose into Will’s hand. He gathered him up onto the sofa and he laid lazily next to him, Will’s fingers gliding through his soft coat of white and dark brown fur.    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *not beta read 
> 
> Feel free to point out any spelling or grammar errors, I'm sure there are many.
> 
> captainsiboo.tumblr.com


	2. The Thin Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter rakes over the events of episode Amuse-Bouche. Originally I had intended to jump right off the canon plot, however I realized I needed to introduce Freddie Lounds and Abigail appropriately. So this chapter and the next will sadly be overkill. 
> 
> Also if anyone is interested in being a beta reader for me, message me! I’d greatly appreciate it!

_If you should go skating_

_On the thin ice of modern life_

_Dragging behind you the silent reproach_

_Of a million tear stained eyes_

_Don't be surprised, when a crack in the ice_

_Appears under your feet_

_You slip out of your depth and out of your mind_

_With your fear flowing out behind you_

_As you claw the thin ice_

* * *

   The clatter of bullet shells sounded through the empty shooting range, but the slight clinks were overpowered by the blasts from the bullets themselves leaving the chamber of the Glock 22. However the steady rhythm of gunfire was diluted though the ear muffs Will Graham wore. His shots were firm, confident, intent on hitting the paper target. Soon the gun was empty, the magazine having been depleted of bullets. The profiler set down the weapon and drew the target closer from where it hung suspended on wire, already knowing full well that his shots were lacking in precision and accuracy. Sapphire eyes moved to examine the paper as it neared, but rather he was greeted with the bloodied corpse of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Quickly the Omega thrust a new magazine into the Glock 22, took aim, and fired onto him. Not thinking, just acting, fear rising up in him as he pulled the trigger and Hobbs drew closer and closer. The diluted thudding of the pistol rang through the Omega's ears until the blasts turned into a slight knocking on a car window.

    “We’re here,” Jack said from outside the passenger side, having woken the profiler from his sleep, and thankfully so thought Will.

   He got out of the vehicle and took in the towering trees and dried up brown leaves that covered the ground. This was the Chippewa National Forest. Under normal circumstances he would have greatly enjoyed having an opportunity to explore the area, a lake or river undoubtedly had to be nearby. But to his left stood Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ cabin.

   Will prepared himself, for stepping into the cabin would be stepping back into Hobbs. But he followed the Alpha inside, shining a flashlight on a taxidermy deer and various equipment no doubt used for gutting. Seeing these things, Hobbs’ things, caused a pressure to swell in the back of his mind, dark, threatening, and all consuming. Will wanted to contain it like an oil spill.

   The two made idle conversation as the Omega explored the area, analyzing, empathizing. It was just empty words that vibrated through the air between them, carrying no meaning. He cruised on autopilot, as he often did when his thoughts were drawn elsewhere. And those thoughts lead him upstairs.

   Antlers, stark against the harsh wood, were mounted from floor to ceiling. While the grandest of the collection held the dried blood of eight girls.  

   “ _To honor her,_ ” a voice sounded quietly though Will, before he swatted the thought away with a grimace.  

   He then only somewhat turned his attention to the Alpha as he spoke, “What if Hobbs wasn't eating alone? It’s a lot of work, disappearing these girl, butchering them, and then not leaving a shred of anything other than what's in this room.”

   “Someone he hunted with,” Will replied absently, still examining the room, regaining control over his mind.

   “Someone who is in a coma, who also happened to be someone he hunted with.”

   Will paused, Jack finally capturing all of his focus, “Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?”  Images of the girl flashed bright through his brain, and for a moment all he could see was Abigail laying in her hospital bed.  

   “We've been conducting house to house interviews at the Hobbs residence and this property also. Hobbs spent a lot of time here. Spent a lot of time with his daughter here. She would make the ideal bait, wouldn't she?” the Alpha responded.

   “Hobbs killed alone,” a small streak of anger ran through Will as he rejected the accusation. The Omega did not feel that from Abigail.  He recalled the look on her face after her throat was slit, full of confusion, eyes pleading. She was not a killer.

   While Will continued to inspect the room, conversation having gone silent, something caught his eye. Crouching down, he slipped his hand past the support beam and picked up a single strand of curly red hair.

   “Someone else was here.”

***

   Returning to teaching was the only sensible choice for Will. It was an attempt to recreate whatever _normal_ had existed in his world before the Minnesota Strike case. Inside he was determined to not let the incident affect his professional life, how it affected him in his private life was a different matter however.

   That morning the Omega followed his previously set routine. Get up, feed the dogs, let them outside, shower, get dressed, take a few aspirin and his suppressants, eat breakfast (though if he had to admit he hadn't had much of an appetite since shooting Hobbs). It took him 45 minutes to drive to the Academy in Quantico. Normally he drove in silence, but he found the quiet suffocating and his thoughts wondering, so he opted to listen to the radio instead. 80’s new wave hits, _great_.     

   Before stepping into the lecture hall he put on his glasses, and took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable. While entering the room Will was bombarded with a standing ovation from the students. The sharp clapping of hands pierced his ears. He grinded his jaw back and forth slightly, concealing his anger. The profiler felt the display was improper. He should not be commended for what he did, how he felt inside would not allow it.

   “Thank you. Please stop that,” he addressed the class. Quickly the applause faded out and they took their seats.

   Will turned off the lights and the projector filled the room with a dim glow as a photo was displayed in the front of the room.

   “This is how I caught Garrett Jacob Hobbs,” he called out as he stared at the screen, “It’s his resignation letter.” Turning to face the class he asked, “Does anybody see the clue?” A few confident hands shot up, while a few others slowly rose, unsure.

   “There isn't one. He wrote a letter, left a phone number no address, that's it,” he said as he sat on his desk. “Bad bookkeeping and dumb luck.”

   The next slide moved into place. _Click_. He turned his head back slightly to view the picture of the deceased Hobbs slumped against the kitchen cabinets. His mind recoiled into the moment, Hobbs’ soft words, Abigail’s gasping, and himself at a loss and covered in blood. Snapping back to reality with a _click_ the next slide showed a living Garrett Jacob Hobbs with a beaming Abigail.

 “Garrett Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question now is how to stop those who his story is going to inspire.”

***

   As his students poured out of the hall, Will noticed a mild, but familiar, Beta smell near, a mix of almond lemon grass and petitgrain. Herbal perfumes were used to enhance and refine the natural aroma, to keep it definite and distinct against the competing Alpha scents she encountered on a daily basis. Will rationalized he probably smelt like dog and moldy boat house. Though already knowing who the scent belonged to he looked up to see Alana Bloom walking towards him.

   He let his eyes wander back down to file away some papers as he let out a small, “Hi,” in greeting.

   “How are you Will?” she asked, voice layered with concern, but not invading.

   He turned towards her with his gaze fixed on the upper rim of his glasses, “I have no idea” Will said honestly.  

   "Well I didn't want you to be ambushed.”

   “This is an ambush?” Will replied, already knowing where this was going. They were always trying to protect him.

   “Ambush is later. Immediately later soon to now. When Jack arrives, consider yourself ambushed,” Alana rambled.

   With impeccable timing Jack strode into the classroom, empowered and confident as usual. His scent of black pepper and cedarwood battled with Alana’s, Alpha versus Beta.

   “Here’s Jack,” Will mumbled, retreating to the other side of the desk. He preferred to keep a comfortable distance from Alphas when it was possible.

   “How was class?” Jack asked, stopping alongside Alana.

   “They applauded. It was inappropriate,” Will replied as he focused on putting away some folders into his satchel, rather than on the two in front of him.

   “Well, the review board would beg to differ. You’re up for a commendation. And they've, uh, okayed active return to the field,” the Alpha relayed awkwardly, inside knowing full well that Will suffered when his mind set out to create a profile of a killer, but damn did he need him.

   “The question is, do you want to go back to the field?” Alana asked Will, looking at Jack somewhat accusingly.

   The Omega stopped packing, straightened his posture, and glanced at the colleagues. Two different paths were being offered. Stay teaching, stay sane. Or go out, stop killers, and wallow in the aftermath. Though Will enjoyed his position at the academy well enough, he burned with a certain determination, a determination that allowed him to break and bend himself much further than a normal person could, and it only made sense then that he should. He remained silent however, at the moment he did not want to give Jack that smug satisfaction of prevailing over Alana.  

   “I want him back in the field. And I've told the board I’m recommending a psych eval,” Jack said as he turned to face Alana, allowing his Alpha scent to roll off him with a greater strength. A power play. Alana matched Jack’s with ease. Will scrunched up his nose in revulsion.

   “Are we starting now?” The profiler asked, irritated. He kept calm despite the notion of an evaluation, that certainly changed his view on the matter. And nor would he allow himself to fall for pheromones ploy tactics. They always had to make these matters so complicated. Dogs weren't complicated.

   “Oh, the session wouldn't be with me,” Alana chimed in quickly, regaining her composure, scent falling back to something far more subdued and bearable.

   Jack followed suit and added, “Dr. Fabré is a better fit. Your relationship’s not personal. But if you are more comfortable with Dr. Bloom–”

   “No, I’m not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head. Especially not Fabré. He dissects everything he can get his hands on,” Will interrupted.  

   “You've never killed anyone before, Will. It’s a deadly force encounter. It’s a lot to digest,” the Beta explained with a deep breath, her voice taking on a softer more sympathetic tone.  

   “I used to work Homicide,” Will pointed out as he started making way for the exit.

   “The reason you currently used to work Homicide is because you didn't have the stomach for pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times!” countered Jack.

   “Wait, so a psych eval isn't a formality?” Will asked, a little taken back.

   “No, it’s so I can get some sleep at night. I asked you to get close to the Hobbs thing. I need to know you didn't get too close. How many nights did you spend in Abigail Hobbs’ hospital room, Will?” Jack replied, his tone turning serious.

   Will halted in his tracks, and let his thoughts wander, processing the Alpha’s words, before settling with, “Therapy doesn't work on me.”

   Jack, clearly irritated, stepped into Will’s personal space and said, “Therapy doesn't work on you because you won’t let it.”

   “And because I know all the tricks,” Will continued.

   “Perhaps you need to un-learn some tricks,” Jack replied, looking to Alana for the much needed backup.

   “Why not have a conversation with, um, Dr. Edwards? He specializes in this sort of thing Will. He'd understand what you went through,” she suggested.

   Will listened as they spoke. He took off his glasses, before turning and walking out of the classroom. Leaving Jack and Alana behind.

   “Come on, Will. I need my beauty sleep!” Jack called after him.

***

   October slowly turned to November. The trees had been stripped bear of their leaves while the clamoring about the _Exchange_ grew, for the winter heat season drew near. But  this was irrelevant to Will. It did not matter if the leafs were lush green or brown and dried up on the ground. It did not matter if the winter heat season was upon them in a few months or if it was tomorrow. These things were trivial.

   And so Will sat on his front porch, tucked away in an aged thermal jacket, enjoying the fall sunset with his canine companions. He nursed a glass of whiskey, wishing to numb the buckling of his own mind, to ease the pressure. The drink didn’t help much unless he planned to be shitfaced drunk and willing to deal with a throbbing hangover the next morning, but today the idea lacked appeal. Will signed and set down his whiskey. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes gliding over the dogs. He gave in, and allowed his thoughts elsewhere.

   He had been approved by the board to return to the field, and he knew it was just a matter of time before a case came up, and he’d agree to join Jack on a mission to catch some deranged killer. It was within his power to save lives, so he would.

   However Jack and Alana wanted him to see a specialist. But Will did not want that. The profiler knew that the Alpha could get him to do a lot, but this was not one of them. No one could tell him something about his mind that he already didn't know.  

   But he appreciated their concern nonetheless. He told himself Hobbs was just taking an extra while to shake off. He had held the minds of many other killers, Hobbs just happened to be another note in his ledger, but a very _complex_ note at that. _So very complex_.

   Just then a chill crept under his skin and he told himself it was from the frigid autumn air. The Omega ran his hands swiftly through his wavy locks, and was quick to down the rest of his whiskey. He got up and moved to open the front door, ushering the dogs inside. Will then felt a few more drinks couldn't hurt, before stepping inside his home and locking the door behind him.

   That night he woke rigid and sweating, having dreamed of a placid Abigail suspended upon the grand antler rack. He having put her there.

   “ _Not enough whiskey then_ ,” thought Will dully as he laid down on a fresh bed of towels.  

***

   Their farmer sought out contact. Searching for that which he could not obtain from other individuals, he found with fungi. The farmer was careful, creating a delicate ecosystem in which his mushrooms could flourish, cultivating that special connection.

   And Will’s mind whirled around this man who had buried nine people alive. It worked and spun to recall what he had encountered in that forest. It moved past the shenanigans of Katz, Zeller, and Price, past the murmurings of local law enforcement, and past his hallucination of Garrett Jacob Hobbs laying in one of the graves. He kept and held onto the profile he had created.

   After having discovered all of the victims had died due to diabetic ketoacidosis, is was clear as day that the farmer was a man of medicine, having tampered with their prescriptions, thus inducing a coma. This lead them to Eldon Stammets. The same Stammets that had fled the pharmacy before the team had a chance to move in. This all came in thanks to _TattleCrime.com_ and the ever bothersome Freddie Lounds.

   The Omega still had Beverly’s reading echoing through him, _“The FBI isn’t just hunting psychopaths, they’re headhunting them too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind -one demented mind to catch-”_ another, goes without saying. The story held a lot of detail about Will and the pending investigation. Stammets saw this and had gotten away.  

   Will read her article. She clearly had gotten in close with one of the FBI, given how extensive her information was. The profiler could recall the guilt concealed within Zeller’s eyes after the pharmacist had escaped. Zeller had been Lounds’ all access pass. He hid his shame well, not even Jack could tell, and Jack had a knack for reading people.

   But Will knew, and he felt Price knew too. Whether it be from judging the look on the Beta’s face or if Zeller would confide in the Alpha. Even though they constantly gave each other shit, the Omega could tell that they were actually pretty close after having worked together for so many years. Price and Zeller were the best example of how well an Alpha and Beta could work together, given any petty bullshit be set aside. They were good men. Zeller was a good man. Will forgave him.

   Jack later informed the profiler that Lounds had been taken care of. It was within the Alpha’s power to have her indicted for obstructing justice by contaminating the Minnesota Strike crime scene. He doubted that Jack’s threats would keep the irritating Beta quiet for long. But Lounds didn't matter while Stammets was still on the run, readying himself for a new garden. And at the moment Stammets didn't matter. 

   For now Will walked into Johns Hopkins Hospital, ready to see Abigail for the second time that week. The first time he had dozed off while visiting. The profiler recalled flashes of a bizarre dream he had while he slept. The hospital had been enveloped in darkness and was utterly barren. He had heard steps and followed the nose into the hall. He could hear it, but he couldn’t see it. And that disturbed him.   

   Will had been woken up by Alana Bloom’s beautiful reading of _A Good Man is Hard to Find_ by Flannery O'Connor. It helped to soothe Will’s nerves, despite that the short story was intended for the comatose Abigail. He had thought about reading to her too, but the titles that came up felt undeserving. Ernest Hemingway, too cliche. Carl Sagan, while nicely written, was a bit too philosophical.  H. P. Lovecraft, no, just no. The silence between them sufficed.

   Despite the state that the girl was currently in, he agreed with Alana. Abigail was a success to him. It was admittedly painful to see Abigail with tubes running up into her nose. Her throat secured in a brace, while the left side of her neck was red and angry, the coloration running up the side of her face. But he didn't feel sorry for himself at all, he felt, good. He was happy he was able to save the girl. The feeling was an odd concept to him.

   The Omega was just leaving the elevator onto the third floor when his phone started to ring, “–Hello?”.

   “lt's Jack. Are you at the hospital?” the Alpha’s voice sounded from the other end.

   “Yes, I am,” replied Will.

   “Stammets knows about Abigail Hobbs.”

   Will snapped his phone shut, shoved it in his pocket, and pulled his gun from its holster as he dashed to Abigail’s room. The bed was empty and panic rose up in him. Will turned, approached the nurse's counter, and nearly yelled, “Where is she? Abigail Hobbs, the girl in 408. Where is she?”

   “They took her for tests,” replied the nurse, clearly put off my the profiler’s unsettled state.

   “Who took her? Who took her?!” Will asked, frustrated.

   “I don’t know!” she exclaimed.

   Will pushed himself away from the counter and ran through the hospital halls, praying to whatever god that Abigail was still in the building and not buried alive somewhere in a shallow grave. Frantically he raced down three flights of stairs and bust through the doors. The profiler looked and saw Stammets wheeling Abigail towards the docking station.

   Will called out as he ran towards them, “Hey!” His glock 22 was pointed and ready, confident, steady. The Omega fired a shot directly into Stammets’ shoulder. Will watched as he grunted in pain, before falling against the white block corridor, his gun discarded beside him. He approached the other man slowly, kicking the gun out of his range. Will reached back to feel for Abigail’s pulse while he held the pistol directly at the pharmacist. “What were you gonna do to her?” Will asked, seething with anger.

   In between his wheezing Stammets replied, “We all evolved from mycelium. I’m simply reintroducing her to the concept.”

   “By burying her alive?” the Omega snapped.

   “The journalist said you understood me!” he answered, clutching his arm in pain.

   “I don’t...”

   “Well, you would have. You would have. If you walk through a field of mycelium, they know you are there. They know you are there. The spores reach for you as you walk by. I know who you’re reaching for. I know. Abigail Hobbs. And you should have let me plant her. You would have found her in a field, where she was finally able to reach back!”

***

   The Alpha had retreated to his living room after having finished his dinner of tender bourguignon, braised in red wine, and garnished with purple potatoes and beets on spinach veloute. The meat had been provided by a particularly ill-mannered manager of a local home goods store who, for an upwards of twenty minutes, refused to acknowledge an interested customer who was bound to a wheelchair.

   He settled himself on his cream-colored claire sofa and allowed the tension to ease from his aching muscles, while soft music played lightly in the background, Sergei Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G Minor to be exact. He flipped open his tablet and proceeded to _TattleCrime.com_. His maroon eyes skimmed over Lounds' most recent publication _"Takes One to know One_ ". The detail it held about Will Graham was impressive, though her own personal bias overwhelmed the article. Lounds followed the monotonous path of tabloid journalism, in a pitiful scramble for name recognition. 

   "You are naughty, Miss Lounds," Hannibal uttered with his thick Lithuanian accent. 

   He recalled a time two months ago when Jack Crawford approached him, in hopes he’d take on Graham and create a profile. Hannibal had no choice but to decline, despite his initial intrigue, for it was one of the busiest times of the year. His schedule was chieflysplit between the onslaught of Omegan widows pained as heat season drew near paired with regular attendance at Baltimore’s finest gym. Every unmated Alpha was expected to bulk up muscle and prepare for possible participation in the _Exchange_. Of course Hannibal had no such intentions. He had carefully crafted his kingdom, and in no way was he willing to risk himself just to have a mewling Omega run rampant around his home.

  But it was vital to keep up appearances, especially when his name came up in the Baltimore paper’s _most eligible bachelor section_  nearly every season. So right before each  _Exchange_ he hit the gym. Despite his age he kept up well with the younger Alphas so desperate to claim an Omega. Even though they packed on muscle easier, they were immature and lacking in technique and skill.  

The Alpha closed his tablet and rolled his shoulder's back. Hannibal decided that after the tedious routine of the  _Exchange_ he’d invite Jack Crawford and Will Graham over for dinner, eager to satisfy his curiosity about the empathetic _Beta_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updating took so long! Finals were a bitch...
> 
> Anyway, you know the drill, please feel free to point out spelling errors!:)
> 
> captainsiboo.tumblr.com


	3. Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mainly covers the events of Potage, so it is ALOT of overkill, please try tough through it though. But there is some Will and Abigail happy times.:) 
> 
> But I finally get to jump off the Canon train!!!

_How could they know, how could they know_

_What I been thinking?_

_But they’re right inside my head because they know_

_Because they know, what I been hidin’_

_They’re right under my bed, they’re in control_  

* * *

   Will Graham woke from a dreamless sleep, calm and collected, as opposed to the sweat drenched and exhausted form he often found himself in when he woke. Some nights were better than others, and last night was better. The Omega rolled out of bed and was met by an onslaught of hungry canines ready for breakfast. He smiled and was sure to lay a hand to each of their heads, for all of them craved affection. Will noticed Max was in desperate need of a good bath and brush for snarls ran rampant through his black coat of fur. Max had rather long hair, it required regular maintenance. And Will signed, knowing he’d fallen behind somewhat in the care for his canines. The profiler would not put it off again, he’d play a game of catch-up after work. He owed it to them, he'd been gone a lot lately.      

   After pouring seven bowls full of dog food, just to be scrounged down in a matter of minutes, Will opened the front door to let his pack roam outside in the pleasantly warm autumn morning. He followed them out onto the front lawn. Golden leaves fell all around. He could never imagine living in the city.

   While Will only had a few precious moments to admire the scene in front of him, he was met with the sight on Alana Bloom in his yard, “Morning!” she called out as she approached.

   “Didn't hear you drive up,” he replied. There was no doubt in his mind that he would consider Alana a _friend_ , and didn't really mind her unexpected appearance, but the thought of someone roaming silently outside of his home without his knowledge uneased him.

   “Hybrid. Great car for stalking,” she joked.

   “Um, I’m compelled to go cover myself,” said Will, realizing his state of undress.

   “I have brothers,” the Beta countered, clearly unfazed. Will felt disappointment weigh on him for a moment. He’d rather not be viewed in the same light as a brother, his feelings for her were beyond that of a platonic sibling-like relationship, but he figured a coupling between the two of them could never exist. He was an Omega in hiding, and he wouldn't want to lie to her, and even more so he didn't want to risk telling her the truth.   

   “Well, I’ll put a robe on just the same. You want a cup of coffee? And more immediately, why are you here?” Will asked as he made his way back to the front door, knowing that there was something more behind this friendly little visit.

   “Yes, and Abigail Hobbs woke up.”

   The profiler stopped and looked at her, letting the information sink in, deep, “Well, you know how to bury the lead.”

   “You want me to get you a cup of coffee?” she asked, figuring that this revelation must be a lot for Will to process. Correctly figuring.

   “No. I want to get my coat,” he stated as the urge to visit Abigail hit him like a title wave, after so much time waiting, and hoping every day that she’d wake from her coma.

   “Let’s have a cup of coffee,” she insisted.

   Inside Will’s home, he and Alana were seated at his dark brown dining table. Both the Omega’s land-line and cell phone rang endlessly, breaking up the pleasantries of morning coffee.

   “Is he gonna keep calling?” Will asked after his cell phone had finally stopped vibrating.  

   “Jack wants you to go see her,” she replied  from across the table.

   “And you don’t,” he observed. It was clear to him that Alana did not want what Jack wanted, she rarely ever did.

   “Eventually,” she offered before continuing, “ Jack thinks Abigail was an accomplice to her father’s crimes. I don’t want to get in the middle of you and Jack, but if I can be helpful to you as a buffer–”

   “I–I like you as a buffer. I also like the fact that you rattle Jack. He respects you far too much to yell at you, no matter…how much he wants to,” he cut in quickly. There was not many people that Will admired the way he admired Alana. She stood up to Jack in ways that Will could not.  

   “And I take advantage of that,” the Beta assured with a smile.

   “Abigail Hobbs doesn't have anyone,” Will said plainly. He had taken her world away from her.

“You can’t be her everyone-”, she then paused briefly to allow her words room to breath. Alana was a master of speech, her pacing emphasized topics of importance, a psychiatric nature was prevalent with the Beta in casual conversation, if this could even be considered casual. “When I said what I was going to say in my head, it sounded really insulting, so I’m going to find another way to say it.”

   “Say it the insulting way,” he urged while leaning forward to place his cup on the table, the coffee having gone mostly ignored in favor of discussion anyway.

   “Dogs keep a promise a person can’t.”

   “I’m not collecting another stray,” the profiler replied. However he’d be lying if he were to say he felt no obligation for Abigail.

  “The first person Abigail talks to about what happened can’t be anyone who was there when it happened.”

  “Yeah, much less the guy who killed dad. Jack’s wrong about Abigail,” Will assured her, but mostly himself, while looking down at his mug.

  “Let me reach out to her in my own way,” Alana suggested..

   After the Beta left Will took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast and his suppressants. Will trusted Alana with Abigail- even though he’d like to see her, talk to her. He knew that Jack would want him to question her, but he wouldn’t do that, because she was innocent. Abigail Hobbs was a victim of her father’s crimes. The Omega didn’t have a clue as to _what_ he’d say to her though.

   Will imagined the heated discussion that must have gone on between Jack and Alana. Even though the profiler wished the two would get along better, Will found he rather enjoyed the foil they created. Alana was the compassion to Jack’s logic.

But Will was just glad it was Alana talking with Abigail, and not Jack. Only god knows what it would do to the poor girl.

 *******

   Will and Alana rolled in past the high caging fences of Port Haven Psychiatric Facility in Baltimore where Abigail resided.

   Alana didn't want the profiler to visit the girl so soon, but Jack insisted that Will make his own decisions. And this was the decision he made.

   That morning Will had received a call from the stubborn Alpha, relying what Alana had concluded from her chat with Abigail. She had _a tendency for manipulation, withheld information to gain information, demonstrated only enough emotions – to prove she had them._

   Jack and Alana had fought, that much was clear, for the Omega could feel tension rolling off the woman in waves. This was against every sensible thing Alana stood for as a seasoned professional, the Beta's focus set solely on Abigail’s well being. However what infuriated her the most was that Jack wasn't a psychiatrist, and didn't understand the delicate state the girl was in, that or he just didn't care.

   Will hated being put between Jack and Alana. The Alpha knew full well that Will wished to see her, despite how Alana felt on the manner. But Will wouldn't question the girl about her involvement, like Jack wanted. He didn't need to gauge Abigail’s innocence. Jack could undertake that feat if he was so damned sure she was a killer.

  Will wanted to be there for Abigail, not interrogate her. He had orphaned her, and now he felt the need to be her there for her, if she would accept him.

 ****As the two walked into the institution Will felt nervous, he worried how the girl would react to him. But upon entering Abigail's room those thoughts were expelled from his mind as soon as he saw a that damn mop of curly red locks stark against the floral wallpaper. Anxiety replaced by annoyance.

   “ -he captures insane men because he can think like them. Because he is insane,” Freddie Lounds finished as she noticed Will and Alana’s presence.

  “Would you excuse us, please?” Will asked the woman politely, while carefully concealing his irritation. He wouldn't allow her to get underneath his skin. The profiler then moved to the foot of Abigail's bed, “ I’m Special Agent Will Graham.”

  The journalist was quick to stand up and inform the girl, “By Special Agent he means not really an agent. He didn't get past the screening process,” while she turned to Will and quickly added, “ Too unstable,” her eyes analyzing, scrutinizing.

   “Miss Lounds, I believe it is time for you to go,” Alana recommend, voice stern.

   “If you wanna talk,” Freddie began while pulling out a business for Abigail, which Will quickly grabbed away in anger. The card is then calmly placed within his jacket. The red-headed beta grabbed a glance at Will before at last leaving the room.

   “Abigail, I believe you've met Dr. Bloom. Do you remember me?” Will asked while removing his glasses, removing the barrier.

   “I remember you. You killed my dad,” the girl nodded and replied.

   Will said nothing, his jaw tightening. Silence lingered for a moment. The manner of the room had become heavy, and they all felt it.

   “Common Abigail, why don’t we get some fresh air?” Alana suggested.

***

   Alana and Will left the room to give Abigail privacy as she dressed in some cloths Alana had bought for her. When the girl joined them in the hall, the profiler noticed the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, hiding her scar from view.  

   Together they went outside into the facility's greenhouse. Constructed of transparent glass walls, it allowed the cloudy gray of the afternoon to be known. Will and Abigail walked side by side, the Omega supporting her as they went. Alana gave the two space, even though this went strictly against her better judgement, but Jack had insisted, more like demanded, that Will and Abigail talk. Though quiet and trailing behind, the profiler was sure she had a psychiatrist ear pinned on every word Abigail said.  

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your mother. I did everything I could but she was already gone,” Will said quietly. Though his feelings regarding Garrett Jacob Hobbs were quite different, he felt a great burden for not being able to save Louise Hobbs. He considered himself solely responsible for the events that unfolded, despite the officer that had accompanied him been there. Will couldn’t even remember his name.

  “I know. I saw him kill her,” she managed to say while Will helped down onto a nearby bench, “He was loving right up until the second he wasn’t. Kept telling me he was sorry, to just hold still. He was gonna make it all go away,” Abigail finished, her eyes set  in no real particular direction. It was the first time vocalizing such things, a deep sinking awareness settled within her, even more so than the day she woke up in the hospital with a tube down her throat.

  “There was plenty wrong with your father, Abigail, but there’s nothing wrong with you,” he assured. Will looked down to Abigail,  and she looked up, blue eyes met blue eyes in consideration.  “You say he was loving. I believe it. That’s what you brought out in him,”  the Omega continued softly. He understood Garrett Jacob Hobbs just as Abigail did, and together they were the few people that ever would.

  “It’s not all I brought out in him. I’m gonna be messed up. Aren’t I? I’m worried about nightmares,” she replied, voice trembling slightly.

   “We’ll be here to help you through this, Abigail,” Alana offered. Though the psychiatrist had kept mostly silent, she witnessed Abigail opening up with clarity and focus. The girl was finally letting herself feel what had happened, however the Beta still believed it was wildly inappropriate that it was Will she choose to confide in, the man who killed her father. It wasn’t the most wise, or healthy, handling of the situation.  

   Will, after sitting beside Abigail, explained,  “There’s no such thing as getting used to what you experienced. It bothers me a lot. I worry about nightmares too.” A lot of nightmares. He often went to sleep wondering if he’d wake up gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. But his bad dreams were old news, he just hoped Abigail would not experience what he did.

   “So killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?” asked Abigail.

   “It’s the ugliest thing in the world,” Will imparted, voice just above a whisper. He felt ugly.  

   “I wanna go home,” Abigail announced looking to both Will and Alana.

***

   Outside the facility Will and Alana walked in silence, both reflecting on their visit with Abigail. Will could feel Alana mostly calm beside him, so it must have gone better than she thought it would have. It went better than he thought it would too. But Abigail going home would definitely be a point of contention, the Omega could already tell.

   Whatever peace had existed around the two was erased as soon they spotted the irritating journalist, along with the pungent scent of nutmeg that had overwhelmed Will when he first stepped foot in Abigail’s room. This Beta woman had a remarkable way of being around when she was not wanted.

   “Special Agent Graham. I never formally introduced myself. I’m Freddie Lounds,” she announced with a stupidly fake smile and hand outstretched in greeting, a facade of politeness fell over the her.

   Will put on his glasses before addressing the journalist. He chose to focus on her shoes, keeping the rage he felt inside, while he replied, “Are you trying to salvage this joke from the mouth of madness?”

   “Please. Let me apologize for my behavior in there. It was sloppy and misguided – and hurtful,” professed Lounds. Will didn't buy her bullshit for a second. It was clear as the light of day that she catered her responses to a specific intent. Her words were calculated and conniving. Whatever it took to get the story.

   “Will, we should go,” Alana cut in, staring daggers at the other women.

   The journalist looked at Alana for a moment before turning her gaze back to Will, “Look, you and I may have our own reasons for being here, but I also think we both genuinely care about what happens to Abigail Hobbs.”

   “You told her I was insane,” the profiler replied back plainly. He didn't doubt that Lounds cared about what happened to Abigail, just so long as it included an exclusive book deal about the daughter of the Minnesota Shrike.

   Quickly, she assured, “I can undo that.” Will’s resentment of the woman ran deep, and continued to blossom as she spoke.  She foolishly yielded a false sense of power. And one day, that _power_ would not be enough to save her ass from whatever horrid predicament she found herself in.

   Though Will smiled at how ridiculous this conversation was, “You help Abigail see me as more than her father’s killer and I help you with online ad sales?”

   “I can undo what I said. I can also make it a lot worse,” she warned.

   “Will, think about what you’re doing,” Alana said quietly to Will as he stepped closer to the red-headed Beta. Forget about the personal space he held so dear, the Omega needed to get this through her impossibly thick skull.

   “Miss Lounds It’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living,” he told her, looking her right in the eyes. At that moment, he don’t care what she’d do. Will was not going to let himself be pushed around by some lowly Beta journalist. He didn't take well to threats.

***

   Evidently, Will was the focus of Lounds’ latest article, not Abigail. And the Omega was willing to take the brunt of the journalist if it meant Abigail didn't have to deal with her. After returning from the Port Haven Psychiatric Facility, the meeting between Jack, Alana, and Will, hadn't gone well at all. The Alpha was, for lack of a better word, pissed at how loose lipped Will had been with Lounds. But the profiler could speak for himself, he knew what he was getting into when he had confronted the redhead.

   Though tempers peaked when Jack insisted Abigail be sent back home. Alana thought it was the worst possible thing for the girl, that it would be reckless to take her out of a controlled environment. Despite her warnings, the Alpha ultimately ran the show, and Abigail was going to get what she wanted. What Jack wanted. Will was unsure about the whole thing, it would be a mindfuck stepping back into the place where he killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs, and there was no way of knowing what would be waiting for Abigail when she went home.

***

   After the flight to Minnesota, the three of them booked rooms at a fine hotel in Bloomington. They then drove to the Hobbs home. The property stood the same as it had on that warm September afternoon, the day Garrett Jacob Hobbs killed Louise Hobbs, attempted to kill Abigail, and Will killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs. However ‘ **CANNIBALS** ’ had been spray-painted across the garage in bold, black letters. Apparently the folk of Bloomington didn't take to kindly to the Strike next door. Their outrage would be projected onto Abigail now.

   But Abigail was strong, she did not let the vandalism phase her. She rather choose to focus on the blood-stained pavement at the front door, the place where her mother spent her final moments. She was teary eyed, but did not cry. Inside the house evidence boxes littered the entry way, forensics having made their rounds months ago. A buildup of dust covered the area, the residence having gone so long unoccupied and undisturbed.

   Abigail made a beeline for the kitchen, where her throat had been slit and her father shot to death. In this time with the girl, Will got to really know Abigail, beyond what he had from Garrett Jacob Hobbs and their brief encounter at Port Haven. She was fiercely intelligent for her age. She knew how to say things in a certain way in order invoke a reaction. Her little -“No wonder you have nightmares” comment certainly left a bad taste in his mouth. But they shared moments of pure honesty and understanding. When Will looked at her, he could see her pain, and he felt it.     

  After the trio’s kitchen excursion sorted the boxes containing everything from scrapbooks to the silverware the Hobbs used for meals. Going through the boundless family mementos was mostly meant to help Abigail process her loss and to properly grieve. Though she seemed to accept her reality, she didn't necessary allow herself to feel it. She was in conflict, torn between the desire to weep for her former life, the sense of normality and belonging that she had once known, and not wanting to portray herself as vulnerable. The vulnerable are taken advantage of. Will figured when she got older, in a year or two's time, she’d present as an Alpha, at least Beta. He hoped for her sake that he was right, he wanted all the world’s possibilities open to her. He didn't want her to have to hide.   

   However, Abigail figured out the alternative motive behind their sorting. Jack’s motive. He wanted her to help find evidence of Shrike victim remains. She explained to Will and Alana, “He would honor every part of them. He used to make plumbing putty out of elk’s bones. Whatever bones are left of those girls are probably holding pipes together.” Will figured they should go to the cabin the next day, to take a closer look at Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ workstation. Abigail could point out what forensics had missed.

***   

That night, as they each resided to their own hotel rooms, Will popped a few aspirins and lay down. He knew this was going to be a long night. He pondered attempting an all-nighter, but he’d rather not be entirely exhausted the next day. Then there was whiskey, it at times helped to ease the troubles of his mind, however the Omega felt it would be inappropriate considering Alana and Abigail were in the rooms just across the hall. And so, he stared at the dark of the ceiling until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep overtook him.

***

Will grasped Abigail's arm tightly  and held her still against him. A knife positioned at her pale neck. The air around them was light and the leaves golden. This wasn't perfect, but it would do. It would be over quickly, she wouldn't be in pain.

“I’m sorry, okay? This will all stop,” he whispered in her hair over her shuddering breath. Her body trembled.  

“I’m gonna make it all go away,” he said against her as he sliced through her throat, the knife carrying blood with it from the expert incision. He let her body drop to the ground.

Will startled awake from the sound of an alarm. 7:30 AM. The hotel room was dark and he was horribly sweat drenched. As the profiler got his breathing under control, he reached over to turn off the noisy clock. He through legs over the side of bed and rubbed the sweat away from his brow. _“This shit is starting to get old,”_   Will thought as he got up, reflecting on yet another nightmare. The Omega peeled off his soiled shirt. He opened curtains and the morning light poured in. It was rather blinding.

***  
 ****

After concluding his morning routine, Will met Alana and Abigail in the hotel lobby. Together they made the 3 and a half hour trip to the Hobbs’ cabin at the Chippewa National Forest. Will drove. Everyone remained mostly silent, some idle conversation was made between Alana and Abigail. The profiler let Abigail choose the radio station. She settled on a channel dedicated the the best music of the 60’s and 70’s. Their trip started with The Doors’ ‘Riders on the Storm’ and ended with Pink Floyd’s ‘Time’. _Good taste_.

  They pulled up to the cabin with a police escort. An officer removed the yellow tape from the door and they went inside. The area remained the same as he remembered, a long workbench piled with various tools while some minor works of taxidermy hung on shelves and walls.    

   Abigail explained, “He cleaned everything. He said he was afraid of germs, but I guess he was just afraid of getting caught,” her eyes running over the familiar space.

   "No one else ever came here with your dad except you,” replied Will.

   Abigail shook her head, denying what the sentence implied, “made everything by himself. Glue, butter, he sold the pelts on eBay or in town. He’d make pillows. No parts went to waste. Otherwise it was murder,” she paused for a moment, words lingering. She quickly turned to Will, face drawn in horror as the pieces fell together in her mind,“he was feeding them to us. Wasn't he?”

   “We believe so,” Will answered.

   The girl’s mouth fell open in shock before quickly shutting it,“Before he cut my throat, he told me he killed those girls so he wouldn't have to kill me.” The final piece fell into place.

   Alana quickly stepped in front of Abigail and explained, “You’re not responsible for anything your father did, Abigail.” She knew this was a bad idea, that this would hurt the girl.

   "If he would've just killed me, none of those other girls would be dead” she shot back, breath shuttering, tears budding in her eyes.

   “We don’t know that. Your father–” Alana started before she was interrupted by the drop of blood that fell onto Abigail's forehead.

   Will slowly moved up the stairs while Alana kept Abigail one the first level of the cabin. The Omega was greeted by a mutated pig carcass strung up in the grand antlers, it’s intestines pooled at it’s hooves. Someone knew Abigail would be visiting. But it was more likely than not that someone was a lot more than just one. The locals had got wind of her return. Will would place his bet on Lounds. But either way the people of Minnesota clearly did not want Abigail in their state.

   While examining the vulgar display, he pulled out his phone and made a call, “Jack, we've got a contaminated crime scene.  A gutted pig has been strung up in the antlers.”

   Before Will could hear anything the Alpha had to say Abigail's footsteps rang as ran up the stairs. The girl let out a gasp when she saw the pig. Alana ushered her back downstairs.

   Will sighed and brought the phone back up to his ear. Jack’s voice sounded through the earpiece, “I’ll be there...I think it’s time that Abigail Hobbs left home permanently. Will, would you have Alana collect Abigail and all of her belongings and escort her out of Minnesota, please?”

   The profiler just nodded, even though the Alpha could not see him.  

***

   By the time Jack and his three favorite crime scene investigators were digging around the Hobbs' cabin, Will, Alana and Abigail were back in Bloomington. The ride had been utterly silent. They watched as day turned to night. First they stopped at the hotel, grabbed their belongings and checked out. The next stop was the airport, but Abigail wished to go back to the house so she could bring a few things of sentiment back to Baltimore with her. And who were they to deny her?

   Thanks to Lounds a mass of people pulsed outside the house, trying to get a look at the daughter of the Minnesota Shrike. Spectators, reporters, and angry families alike, all with accusing glares. They’d all seen the Shrike’s nest, and they knew Abigail had been there too.  They wanted answers, and justice, they just didn't care who it came from. The rowdy crowd was only kept at bay by local law enforcement.

   They drove past the police lines. And exited the vehicle. Alana wrapped an arm around Abigail and walked her towards the house. Somewhat shielding her from the camera flashes of reports.

   Out from the darkness Freddie Lounds, _“the journalist from Hell,”_ thought Will, sprang forward and called out, “Abigail!”

   The profiler stood in front of the redheaded Beta, her scent overbearing, and explained, “Miss Lounds, you are not authorized to be over that line,” keeping his anger, and some unpleasant things he’d rather say to the women, to himself.

   Lounds mostly ignored Will in favor of yelling to Abigail,  “I've been covering the Minnesota shrike long before you got involved. I wanna help you tell your story. You need me now more than ever.”

   Abigail attempted to pull away from Alana and face the journalist, “I wanna talk to her.”

   But the psychiatrist’s grasp was firm and she led the girl through the front door, “No you don’t. Go inside.”

   Will looked at Freddie Lounds for a long moment, she just smiled, before he turned away to follow suit.

   However from inside the home a scream erupted. Will raced to the house and found Abigail and Alana in the living room. A bundle of long dark hair in the girl’s trembling hands.  

***

   Will stood by the front door as a black car pulled up. The profiler started, “Check everything, the pipes, the pillows, everything and everywhere. No parts went to waste. Otherwise it was murder,” to Zeller, Katz, and Price as they moved pasted him into the house. This was their second at the house, however inspecting pipes down in the basement was now undoubtedly in their future.

   Jack walked up to Will and asked, “Where’s Abigail?”

   “Alana took her back to the hotel,” he replied before he started off away from the house.

   “Where you going?” the Alpha asked.

   "I wanna go home.”

 *******

   When Will finally found himself back in Wolf  Trap he heard that Jack’s little super team had ripped through the entire house and tested everything. They discovered more pillows stuffed with hair, the plumbing putty, a few bones carved into daggers, some other odd charms and knickknacks, just a lot small items composted of the girls remains were littered throughout the home. And thanks to expertise of Zeller, Katz, and Price, they found some more objects to fill up the evidence locker. Zeller more or less described the Hobbs' residence as an “ _Ed Gein craft workshop_ ”. But really, the trio was just happy to haven’t found a human skin suit.

“ _Well, good for them_ ,” Will thought bitterly.

***

 The Omega was exhausted, he was always. It seemed the visit to Minnesota had certainly wore on him. After thinking he’d left Garrett Jacob Hobbs behind, for some reason or another Will would constantly be roped in again, forced back into the Shrike. That, or the killer lingered at the back of his mind, contained for most of the day until Will went to sleep, biding his time patiently until making his presence known in the subconscious of the profiler’s dreams. He’d tried so hard to know Hobbs, and now Hobbs had a part of him.  

   One night a patrol car found him sleepwalking down a secluded road, a mile or two from home, in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Winston trailing behind him.  His feet were scraped to hell.  Sleep waking on top of the nightmares. _Great. Just fucking great._

   Logically, Will turned to his old reliable, whiskey. He’d drink, but it didn't help. So he drank more. Still nothing. But he figured he would be too loaded to make it out the front door, so at least any attempt at sleepwalking would be kept at bay. But that entire week he called in sick to work, to hungover to teach.

   Though initially since the Shrike case the Omega hadn't had much of an appetite, the visit didn't help that either. He’d eat, but just not much, certainly not meat- it reminded him of Elise Nichols’ liver - tainted. A bowl of canned beans usually found it’s way into his microwave every now and then.

   When Will looked in the mirror what he saw terrified him, if he were to be honest. He wasn’t himself, he was falling apart. Dark circles rounded his eyes and he was far more scruffy than usual, his facial starting to come in thick. He was much skinnier too, both fat and muscle mass somewhat depleted.  

   At the weeks end Alana made another unexpected appearance in the profiler’s front yard, worried over his absence from the academy. She found Will sitting out on his porch, shitface drunk at four in the afternoon.

   She approached him, sadness abundant in her features, “Let me take care of you, Will.”

   With all cognitive functions lulled into complacency by booze, he agreed  with a nod and lead her inside. He explained, with only mild slurring, of the fire in his mind. Of nightmares, hallucinations, sleepwalking. Of general despair and frustration.

   Alana wanted to go for a drive, or so she said, in a voice of ease. Will was in no state to disagree, he was drunk and just happy to see her. The Beta-woman ushered him into the front passenger seat of her Hybrid, and had to buckle his seat belt for him, as his clumsy hands were not up to the task. She turned the radio on for the profiler, and ‘Sunday Morning’ by The Velvet Underground played softly through the speakers. He was lulled to sleep within 10 minutes.

   She sighed as she drove past the winding forests of Wolf Trap. Will was passed out next to her, and would undoubtedly be out for a few hours. Her knuckles turned white her fists tightened around the steering wheel. Rage moved through her and she wanted to scream. Jack had put Will out in the field, knowing the risks, but ignored them. The profiler was left to fend off against the fear on his own and plunged down a dark hole of self-destructive behavior, attempting to cope with the pressure. Jack had cast Will out into the ocean, but hadn’t bothered to reel him back to shore. But Jack’s inaction would not be Alana’s.

   Next to her, Will’s eyes moved rapidly underneath his closed lids. He saw a wall of pure black, darkness. Abigail was beside him, smiling. He smiled back and hugged her close. Words left his lips that were not his own, “I do this to save you.”

   She beamed and simply replied, “I know,” seemingly oblivious to the blood red antlers that appeared from the shadows.

   And together they lifted a limb body up from the darkness that surrounded them and impaled fragile skin and muscle though the tines.

   Will felt a sadness wash over him then. He put an arm around Abigail and looked towards Elise Nichols’ form suspended in front of them, “We can’t honor her, but we can say sorry.”

***

   Will lolled his head to the side and opened his eyes to overly bright fluorescent lights and plain whites walls. He was groggy and felt the steady hum of his pulse in his head.

   Beside him the slight rustling of fabric brought his attention to his visiter. Slowly he turned to face the brilliant smile of Alana Bloom, “Welcome back,”

   Will could only give a small smile back before he looked her in the eyes. In those deep brown irises swirled compassion and sympathy. Suddenly he grew very aware of his surrounding, of the IV in his arm and the blue gown that covered his body. He was in the damned hospital. And Alana _knew_. And Will _knew_ she knew. And it made Will sick. _Everyone knew._

   His dread must have shown on his face for Alana brought her hands to cup Will’s and muttered, “Will, please stay calm-”

   Her words fell on deaf ears as he felt panic rise in him. He started to shake and break out in sweat. Rapid breathing came paired with the deep sinking feeling in his stomach. _They know. They will take away your suppressants and your dogs. They will put you away. They will ship you off to the Exchange. They will force you to mate. They will take what is yours away from you._

   Will ripped the IV from his arm and scrambled to the floor, away from Alana until he was plastered in the corner. Hands gripped  handfuls of brown curly hair as he rocked back and forth. Will sat on the floor until his head was quiet.  _Still, still, be still._ And from the corner of his eye he saw Garrett Jacob Hobbs, slumped up against he wall across from him, muttering, “ _See? See?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment spelling errors! I'd really appreciate it! 
> 
> Also come say "Hi" on tumblr! I'm super nice, I promise!:)  
> http://captainshiboo.tumblr.com/


	4. Indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a lot more than anticipated so I needed to split this chapter, more cool stuff happens next time. ;)

_I will hold the candle 'til it burns up my arm_

_I'll keep takin' punches until their will grows tired_

_I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind_

_Hey, I won't change direction and I won't change my mind_

_How much difference does it make?_

* * *

 

For two long weeks, Will was confined to the psychiatric unit of John Hopkins Hospital. No, never mind the fact that he was being treated for encephalitis (which was discovered after a vigorous amount of testing)- there must have been something seriously fucked with him other than a swollen brain if he was hiding the fact that he was an Omega for nearly twenty years.

  He endured countless MRI’s, intensive antibiotic treatment, and the ever so pleasant psychotherapy all while a police officer was stationed outside his room to deter any possibility of escape. The Omega was honestly surprised when they didn't handcuff him to his bed.   

  Will’s doctor said he was lucky. That he could have suffered far more severe symptoms, seizures and permanent brain damage, if he had went on untreated. Personally, the profiler could not disagree more. He wasn't _lucky_ by any means.   

   And to make matters _even better_ Jack had taken time out of his busy schedule to visit. Jack gave Will an earful about how he had betrayed his trust and how badly he reflected upon the Alpha himself and the entire FBI as well. Furthermore Jack notified him of not only how his work in the field, but also his teaching position at Quantico, was suspended indefinitely. That didn’t sit well with the Omega at all.

  He knew Jack must have gotten hell from the board, but either way they managed to keep Will’s outing under wraps. Even though he was only a special agent and not official FBI, government employees outed as Omegas always attracted a lot of publicity. _Bad publicity_. Outings after all were a rarity.  

   Despite their motives for keeping things quiet, Will was thankful and hoped that it would stay that way until after the _Exchange_ had commenced. First and foremost, the thought of Freddie Lounds snooping around his hospital room wasn't very appealing. Secondly, he didn't need an endless line of Alpha psychologists and psychiatrists lusting after his mind in a situation where he was powerless.

  So, blocked off from the outside world, the Omega spent most of his time _thinking_. It was first time in months that he was able to really reflect with a certain clarity, it was as if his mind had been relieved of a tense fog.

   But Hobbs had changed him in ways that medicine could never erase, he figured nightmares would always haunt him (but hopefully less prevalent), though his doctor assured him that hallucinations were no longer a source of concern.

   However during those two weeks of near isolation he found at first he was mad at the world, than at the hospital, than at Alana, than at himself.

   Really, his biology couldn't be helped. It just happened to be that his genetic makeup, gifted to him by his parents, determined Will to be a male Omega. After reflection he found he liked being an Omega just fine, but just hated how society decided they be treated. He then figured the hospital staff was just doing their job. John Hopkins Hospital prided itself on professionalism and strict full proof procedure after all. While Alana was just trying to be a good friend. And she was a good friend. There was no way she could have known what Will was hiding.

   Deep down the profiler knew his charade would come crashing down around him one day. But hell, he had a good run. Though the life he knew was all over now. Exit Will Graham the Beta -teacher doubling as a FBI Special Agent. Enter outed Omega Will Graham -pathetic and miserable.

   And there was a nagging itch within him that only intensified when he looked at a calendar. The days seemed to be going by faster and faster as the _Exchange_ approached. Will knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d be shipped away. He tried not to think about it, but it was hard to think about anything else when all the major news outlets were all _Exchange_ 24/7, with a police officer stationed outside his room, and the Beta nurses that chuckled about him as they strode past.

***

    On December 9th Will received his second visitor. The sun had just set and the Omega could see small snowflakes fall outside his window, illuminated by the lights surrounding the hospital. He knew as soon as they hit the pavement they would dissolve instantaneously, the ground was still too warm.   

   A small knock sounded through his door, bringing his attention from the winter weather.

   “Come in,” he called lamely, figuring it was just some nurse bringing in the timely dinner tray.

   In walked Alana, wrapped in a thick, navy blue jacket, with a light blue scarf to match. Her dark hair was set in waves. Her scent flooded the room, replacing that of stale antiseptic. Never before had almond lemon grass and petitgrain smelled so sweet.  

   “Hello, Will,” she greeted, closing the door behind her.

 “Alana,” he replied, caught off guard at her arrival. His chest swelled with a myriad of emotion. He didn't think he would get the chance to see her again before the _Exchange_.

   She roamed awkwardly around the room, clearly she suffered as the Omega did. But the _right_ words often were fleeting, and the feelings so great, “I've been in touch with, um, animal services. Your dogs are with me and I'll take care of them until whenever.”

   “Whenever could be a long time from now,” he explained. Will took comfort in the fact that his dogs were in good hands, however he knew his future ownership was uncertain. He could wind up at the whims of an Alpha from halfway across the world for all he knew. It was troubling to say the least.

   “I'll take care of them until then. I brought you some clothes,” she then gestured to the duffle bag that hung at her side before setting it by the foot of his bed. He knew what the clothes were for. An Omega was required to supply their own clothing for the _Exchange_. And Alana had brought some for him.

   A tension build in his jaw, Alana didn't seem to be doing much better, “You’re flushed. You been yelling?”

   “Screaming is more like it,” she corrected lightly. 

   “I could use a good scream. I can feel one perched under my chin.”

   "Let it out.”

   “I'm afraid that if I started I wouldn't be able to stop...”

   Will got up from his hospital bed then, the IV pumping antibiotics through his veins in tow. He slowed in his approach to Alana. And for a moment they stared into each others eyes. A mutual longing shared. He placed a hand upon her shoulder and brought his lips down to meet hers in a passionate kiss, unleashing all the pent up feelings that had accumulated between them in the past months. The Beta was the first to pull away, much to the sore disappointment of Will. They shared the space, neither willing to part completely. What had, up until that point, gone unsaid needed to be expressed. _Now or never_.

   “I wouldn't be good for you. The way that I am isn't - compatible with the way that you are,” she spoke softly, still lingering in the warm afterglow.

 "Are you telling me that to confuse me?" Will asked, sweeping despair twisting his stomach into bitter knots. He knew- he could see, feel- what was to follow. An end to a coupling that never was and now can never be.   
****

A deep sigh and bright eyes seeking out Will’s, "No, I'm telling you that to be honest about how I feel. I don't want to mislead you but, I don't want to lie to you either."

  "I won't lie if you don't," he replied, running a hand through her silken hair.

   "I have feelings for you, Will. But I can't just have an affair with you. It would be reckless. I’m a Beta and you’re an Omega,” Alana explained as she pulled slightly from the embrace.

   “I don’t want an Alpha... I want you,” Will felt a severe desperation then. A desire to return to his old life, to be Beta, to be with Alana. He’d been aching for so long. But, in this moment, being with her, all his and Alana’s emotions culminated- into a mix so strong he worried his head would burst.

   “It’s the nature of the Exchange,” she contended.  
 ****

And it seemed the forces of nature were working against them from the very start. Will brought his forehead to rest against hers and allowed himself a small kiss. One last kiss.

   A quiet lingered in the room, before Alana continued, “Will, I’m sorry, but the next time I see you you’ll be with an Alpha and it would be inappropriate to pursue any sort of romantic relationship. I can only be your friend.”

   "Thank you for not lying."

   The Beta pulled away and moved towards the door. She kept her eyes concealed. She did not want Will to feel any additional suffering, he had plenty of his own to burden. “Goodnight, Will,” she uttered, crestfallen.

   “Goodnight, Alana,” he returned quietly.

   And then she was gone, the door shut behind her. And Will was alone.

***

   Early the next morning Will was escorted into a large black van, this time he found himself handcuffed. Two police officers, tasked with rogue-Omega transport, sat in the front. On route to Philadelphia several stops were made to retrieve fellow Omegas in hiding. The first pickup came relatively quick with a stop in Essex, Maryland. A woman in her late twenties, blond hair buzzed, with a scowl planted firmly on her face, was pushed into the van. She held her leather jacket tightly around her form, clearly uncomfortable. Deep green irises shown through her narrowed eyes.

   He could see her. She had avoided detection due to her primary interest in women. She couldn’t stand the thought of being mated to a male. Statistically speaking, there was a 42% chance her mate would be female. But those odds weren't high enough for her.

   The profiler was happy to see his ability to empathize hadn't stemmed from an inflamed brain.  

   Next, just outside of Aberdeen, Maryland, an African American man, in his late thirties, found his way into the vehicle. If going blindly by his state of dress, he came from a wealthy family and he followed suit in success. But the man came from a family of Alphas, a family so ashamed of their Omega-son they forced him to take suppressants to pose as a Beta. But he really didn’t seem too unsettled about being forcibly lead into the _Exchange_. He actually was happy. It made sense, he had been so sick of hiding, he had always just wanted to be himself. And now he was.     

   In Wilmington, Pennsylvania, a sickly pale woman, just on the cusp of adulthood, was the last to join. Her scent was not definite, she had just very recently presented as Omega then. And that was a far Will could see. She had put up barriers.

   Eventually the van pulled up to the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia. A massive facility that encompassed four city blocks, that hosted a number of highly regarded events, though the _Exchange_ was their largest and most prestigious.

   The group was lead inside for the initial processing while their duffle bags were screened.  _Name. Age. _Date of birth._ Height. Weight. Length of time abusing suppressants. Other._ Administration created a comprehensive folder on each of them for their future suitors to indulge in.  

   Will noted that they segregated from the  _normal_  Omegas, at least the handcuffs were removed. 

  Next it was time for a little checkup. He found himself in a white room, surrounded by a multitude of standard medical supplies. The door opened and in walked a woman, “It’s nice to meet you Mr.Graham, I’m Dr. Indira Krause,” she greeted.

  Black waves of hair were pulled back into a pun, making her flawless amber skin pronounced. Her face was kind. She was striking. But what really stunned Will, was her scent. She was an Omega. And a doctor. What she was was not only uncommon, but nearly unheard of.

  “You can call me Will,” he replied, still processing.

   She smiled, "Well, Will, today I’ll be checking your ears, eyes, and blood pressure. I’ll also be asking you a few questions. While I prep-” she continued while pulling on latex gloves and fishing out supplies, “-do you have any questions for me?”

   A lump formed in his throat. He had to swallow it down a moment later to make room for a question, one that has haunted him since he presented as Omega 20 years ago, “What’ll happen to me?”

  Dr. Krause hummed then, in thought- she was choosing her words carefully. The doctor pulled a chair forward and sat in front of Will. Legs crossed and hands clasped together, resting on her lap. _Time for a little heart to heart?_

  “I don’t blame you- for taking suppressants. I thought about it too,” she admitted softly her hazel eye searching Will’s. He searched back.  

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Honestly, I didn't have much time to think about anything. All I knew is I wanted a future I could be proud of, and that future came into question when I presented. But everything happened so fast, and before I knew it I had a mate who barely spoke English. But he is a kind man, he encouraged me to follow my dreams... Not every Omega is so lucky however,” she explained.

  “I've been told I’m lucky. I don’t feel lucky.”

  “Through the years, I found we all drive our own futures. No Alpha can take that away from you.”

  “All the medical journals I have read over the years say the same thing, the exact same thing, _bonding is a profound experience that not only dramatically alters an Omega’s life, but their personality as well. Re-birthed as the ideal model of submission and compassion, with a refined compatibility to their mate_ ,” Will recalled with bitterness.

   A rumble sounded in her chest, holding back a snicker, “ What you think you know is just distorted information and misconceptions promoted by my high horse Alpha colleagues. In reality very little factual knowledge on Omegas exist without a bias.” Will urged her to continue. Clearly any mask of professionalism fell and truth poured from Dr. Krause’s lips as rain does from the sky, “You may have heard of the wildly romanticized versions of a heat that Alphas and the media just love to eat up- a _bond forged in steamy passion and savage desire_. But really, each individual's experience is different, and their reaction to a bond is unique them. Biologically, yes, the elevated hormones and secretion of slick are always present in a heat, but psychologically, bonding, it is all subjective. It is all _different,_ ” she explained. The profiler could clearly tell that this was not a speech she practiced in front of the mirror every morning. These thoughts were private, reserved for those who would listen and learn best,  “Some view it as the ultimate submission necessary for an Omega to be happy, which is completely absurd. But you probably already knew that,” she finished with a smile in knowing.  

   Will couldn't help up smile back. His first genuine smile in weeks. He appreciate her honesty. It was nice knowing he’d have someone on his side at the _Exchange_.

   Dr. Krause progressed through the rest of the appointment by finding his blood pressure, eyes, and ears to be in perfect shape. Next Will had to endure a rather invasive questionnaire. The questions started off innocently enough, “Have you experienced any severe headaches or hallucinations since being released from John Hopkins Hospital?”and so on until they wandered into uncomfortable territory, making them both cringe. But she was required to ask them by the Exchange directors. Perhaps the most awkward Will felt was when she asked, “To what extent have you engaged in sexual activity?”

   He understood way she was forced to ask such a thing. Alphas wanted virgins. Any non-virgin Omegas were sent from Philadelphia to local battles, for they were not as desirable and therefore undeserving of such high esteem at the global _Exchange_.

   It would be ridiculous to assume Omegas had no experience before bonding. Most came in with some sort of knowledge of sex. Every highschooler fooled around before they presented-Will included- but God forbid they present Omega and not have their virginity in tack. The furthest most were willing to go at that age was 3rd base, but no further.

   Then every fresh Alpha and Beta in their right mind went and fucked without having to worry about maintaining their _purity_ or about forming an illicit bond. Omegas could not, they had to wait around for their day in the sun after the _Exchange_.  

   But Will was far more tenacious in his younger years, and when he’d presented he was just like any other guy. He just wanted to have sex. However, he was always _different_ , and couldn't find anyone who wanted to do it with him. Though as time went on he became more anxious of being found out during a coupling, so stopped any attempts at it all together.

   After parting ways with the good doctor, having passed his health exam, Will was pushed through to the final stage of processing. He was printed off an ID tag, to be worn at all times. Underneath his name in bold letters read **B1327-5**. He felt like an inmate. And it only made sense his cell would be to follow.  
 ****

The profiler, along with all the other rogue-Omegas, were lead down a long corridor of rooms, in which the wall shared with the hallway was constructed of transparent glass. Each Omega was brought to the room that coincided with their ID number.

   Once inside Will saw that a pull curtain hung to the side of the room, that if pulled forward would cover the transparent wall. At least he was afforded some privacy- though he was instructed the curtain was to only be employed at night.   

   The room itself was meager. Around 50 square feet, just enough for a twin bed and a low shelf on which a clock was placed. On the leftmost wall there were two additional doors. The first was a closet already containing the clothing he had brought with him. The second was a small bathroom set with a sink, toilet, and shower. During closer inspection he found that brand new shampoo and conditioner, _compliments of Directors of the Exchange_ , was provided. Fragrance-free, he noted.

   He groaned,shuffled towards the bed, and flopped forward. His body connecting with the surprisingly nice mattress. There were no windows in the room- so no escape could be attempted in that way. The Omega could always just open the door and walk out, but more likely than not an alarm would sound and the guards in the area would A) find him, and B) tase him. And he really didn’t feel like being tased.

   He kicked his shoes off across the room where his jacket was soon to follow. Now as comfortable as can be in such a situation, and with nothing other to do than slip into self loathing or watch TV, Will opted for the latter.

   He found all the news stations we covering the _Exchange_ extensively. From the wealthiest to the beefiest Alpha competitors. The most beautiful men and women likely to reel in the most suitors. And a previewed assortment of rogue-Omegas from far and wide. It was reportedly the largest number of rouge-Omegas to be found and housed at the _Exchange_. He was thankful to see that he did not appear on the screen.

   Being reminded of his situation didn't feel like the best way to pass the time so he flipped through the channels, and being it the middle of the day and nothing better on, Will settled on some show called _Steven Universe_. It certainly wasn't anything like the cartoons he grew up with. _Not even close._

   He wondered if the show was something Abigail would enjoy. She was 18, legally an adult, but Will didn't see her that way. When he looked all he saw was a bright teenager, curious, intelligent, still discovering and figuring out the world, and herself for that matter.

  Maybe she was more of a book type.

   He spent the next hour lulling in the world of cartoon network, where the more he watched the more convinced he was that these shows were animated drug trips rather than cartoons for children.  

   At 1 PM a small bell sounded throughout the building. A fair number of guards lined the hallway and the room doors automatically opened. One by one each Omega emerged and were led down to an enormous dining area with grand windows, allowing sun rays to fill the space. A sizable buffet was set up across the room, the aroma of warm broths and roasted pork roamed the air. Lunch time.

   After selecting a stemming bowl of cream of broccoli, half of a chicken breast sandwich, and an apple from the endless assortment of soups, salads, subs, and sandwiches, he wandered until he discovered a deserted table near one of the windows.

   Will sat and began to eat. The food was surprisingly good. Very good actually. Especially compared to the hospital food he had tolerated for the past two weeks.

   Quiet whispers echoed through the room of two hundred. They were all rogue-Omegas stained with bitterness. No one was in the mood to socialize or make friends. But a common face was appreciated.  

   The man that had shared the van ride up to Philadelphia gingerly sat across from him. And the two other women joined them soon after. Each eat in silence, Will meanwhile took a glance at all of their IDs. Across from him sat _James_. Beside him, the woman with the shaved head, was _Emma_. And the youngest of the group was _Genevieve_.    

   50 minutes of silence later everyone was mostly prepared to go back, but not without headache for the guards. A few escape attempts were made, one guard sustained a bloody nose, and four Omegas were tasered, handcuffed, and hulled away.

Once the commotion died down and troublemakers sorted out, they were ushered into their rooms. Will just wanted to sleep, to ease the stress from his body and the burden in his mind. And it was only 2 in the afternoon. How the hell was he supposed to last another two weeks like this- and the worst was still yet to come. The thought haunted the profiler.    

   However, any thoughts that he may have had brewing were interrupted when the television suddenly turned on, displaying an image of the Omega-Alpha Relations Coordinator for the Exchange, Maynard Welsh.        

   The old Alpha-male sat comfortably behind a large oak desk as he addressed the screen, “Welcome all to the world’s biannual Alpha Exchange! We are pleased to house the best and brightest Omegas here at the Pennsylvania Convention Center for such a historic and critical affair. Our work here, without your cooperation, would be impossible to maintain such high standing in the international community and the quality procedures ensuring fairness.”

   Will watched and bitterness began to grow. He only thought of the young Omegas here and what their still delicate minds were being subjected to. _Propaganda and lies- brainwashing._

   Welsh continued with a kind, understanding, smile, “Some nervousness may plague you- but that is normal. It is important to remember that our systems are crafted to ensure your safety and comfort during your time here.”

   “What bullshit,” Will said aloud to no one in particular.

   “We feel it is our duty to not only aid in providing the ideal mate, but also supply essential information to our Omegas here, in hopes they gain better understanding of their future Alpha, their biology, and themselves. Therefore the Exchange works closely with the most respected researchers of Alpha/Omega dynamics, with an emphasis on the most up-to-date and accurate knowledge available.”

   The profiler tried turning off the TV, but the controller had no effect. He was frustrated, he hated the words that fell from the old man’s lips. Will noticed he liked saying the same thing but in three different ways. The Alpha was, frankly, annoying.

   “That being said I’d like to introduce Jillian Walker, an expert in her field for nearly two decades,” Welsh began as a statuesque woman walked on screen to stand next to the desk. She was all Alpha, and not afraid to show it. Dominate in posture and her clothing, while elegant, emphasized her strong form.

   She smiled coldly into the camera, “Hello, I’m here to provide a refresher course for your young minds.”

   A pie chart then can onto the screen, obstructing Welsh from view, “ As you see the world at present is broken down into five distinct categories-” she began by pointing to one half of the circle that was colored in gray, “As you’ll see Betas, both male and female, apprise for 50% of the population, and as we move around the chart it shows Alpha males make up 20%, Alpha females at 15%, while Omega females rest at 10% , and Omega males hold a low 5% of the population. These statistics highlight why the Exchange is necessary- in a game of winners and losers all Omegas will find mates, and no surviving Alpha will go unmated.”    

   Next a calendar came to encompass the entire TV.

   “The next several days are critical, so pay close attention. Tomorrow, December 11th, will be the sole day for Alpha viewing. The eligible bachelors will have from 9 AM to 6 PM to view all of you and submit a form for those who’d they’d like to visit. First impressions matter, so take a shower, wear your best attire, and be on your best behavior. And remember to smile.”

   “December 12th from the 15th will be the visitation. Any Omega has the potential to meet with 6 Alphas per day.  The duration of the meeting is typically delegated by the Alpha, unless many Alphas request a time for visitation, but this is unlikely. By 6 PM, on the last day, the Alpha will report in for the Omega they intent to fight for. The 16th will serve as a day of rest and one of preparation for the Alphas.”

   “Battles began the 17th and last to the 21st. Multiple battles will commence at once in different arenas throughout the building. Battles will be televised for your viewing pleasure, as well as for the pleasure of the world.”   

   “On the 22nd, when all battles are said and done, the Exchange will work with the victorious Alphas and sort out all of the necessary paperwork that morning, and that afternoon you will be free to go home with your Alpha.”

   “- _forced_ to go home with your Alpha,” Will corrected.  

   “Now, typical heats have potential to start the first day of summer and of winter, in your case it will be the winter season. Look out for signs of heat beginning December 21st to January 10th. While this is the scientifically projected window, some Omegas could experience their heat early while others may be late. Therefore it is crucial to remain with your Alpha for those times.”   

   The calendar faded from view, as Welsh and Walker were displayed once again. The man grinned then, “On behalf of myself, Mrs. Walker, and the Exchange, we wish you fair mating!"

  The TV cut off to black for a moment or two until a new man held the screen, he didn't look particularly happy, “I’m the Security Coordinator, Mr. Johnson. Thanks to the little episode during lunch this afternoon, you rogues will receive no time at the gym or at recreation. And meals will be delivered to your rooms for the next three days. We will not compromise the sanctity of the Exchange for a handful of self-hating Omegas.”

  And the screen was black again.    

***

   Will cast forward his fly line, allowing the homemade tackle to plop beneath the rushing water. It was a perfect day, at the perfect stream. It was on the cusp of fall, the leaves turning golden, and the river flow calm. There was a gentle warmness in the air. A small smile of content on his features.        

   A soft humming then sounded through the space, and Will surveyed the area, somewhat confused. Standing on shore he saw a petite women, arms crossed, glistening eyes working their way down his form.

   Will found himself staring back at her through the glass wall as her scent finally hit him, overpowering. _Disgusting_. She nodded in approval before moving on, kitten heels tabbing along the linoleum floor.

   He signed. He’d made her list. The Alpha-woman seemed to appreciate his aesthetic. The profiler recalled he had also made the list of a young psychologist, a gymnast seeking a low-maintenance homemaker, and a foreigner eager to crack a rogue-Omega into submission.

   His eyes reconnected with the floor in front of him, trying to recapture his stream. He felt he’d be fishing a lot in the upcoming days.

   However, in Will’s peripheral vision another Alpha stopped to peer into his sad little room. The Alpha smelt of caraway and sandalwood, a natural earthy richness, not overbearing or accented with awful cologne.

   The Omega turned his head slightly to view the man. He wore a blue plaid three piece suit, accented with orange, along with an orange dress shirt, and an ugly paisley tie with matching pocket square. A man of particular, peculiar, taste.

   The Alpha’s gazed locked onto Will’s then. His eyes didn’t give much away other than an underlying curiosity- and amusement? The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

  The moment ended as quickly as it started and the man turned and continued on down the hallway with his blond companion.

  _Fuck._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment spelling errors and such!:) 
> 
> captainsiboo.tumblr.com


	5. Yellow Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has taken so long to update! School is very hectic! But i'll try to update roughly once a month!

_Here far away_

_One could feel the earth vibrate_

_Moon changing shape and shade_

_as we all do under its gaze_

_Yellow moon on the rise_

* * *

    “Do you know that man?” Bedelia asked as they walked through the hall of rogues.

    “I know of him. His name is Will Graham - a profiler for the FBI. Several months ago I was asked by Agent Crawford to monitor Will's emotional well being while he worked on cases,” Hannibal explained, recalling the day Jack had made an unexpected appearance at his office.

    “And you declined.”

   “Poor timing,” he offered.

   “For all the years that I've accompanied you to the Exchange you have never taken a serious interest in an Omega.”

   He allowed the corners of his lips rise slightly, “I am intrigued.”

   “...Curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Hannibal,”    

***

   Settled with the comfort of his luxurious room, at the heart of the the convention center, the psychiatrist searched through the information available on the exclusive Exchange online database. Searching for only one name- Will Graham.

  On file there was a simple snapshot of the Omega- looking rather irritated. Hannibal considered the man far more beautiful in person. The Alpha recalled the far off snapshots from which he’d first encountered Will- Freddie Lounds’ Tattletale photo’s did not do the man much justice. It’s a shame really, having known of Will’s pleasing aesthetic paired with such a receptive mind Hannibal would’ve taken it upon himself to meet the Omega much sooner.

   Their first encounter was less than optimal. Separated by a layer of glass, and with the eyes of numerous Alphas fixated in scrutiny upon the Omega- the exchange was less than intimate, however he couldn’t help but in that moment admire the rumpled brown curls that adorned his face and the scowl fixed on his features-  it was rather endearing. With stark clarity, Hannibal recalled his scent. _Heat. A fevered sweetness. Plumeria, with light notes of jasmine, much like a magnolia blossom, accompanied by hints of lemon and honeysuckle._

   The Alpha pondered if he’d made an impression upon Will, as Will did upon him.

   But something more profound stirred within the psychiatrist when Will’s blue eyes met his own. Something disturbed was concealed underneath, that much Hannibal could see- dear Will was in a dark place. The Alpha knew he’d been afforded a rare opportunity. Hannibal was aware of the profiler’s empathy, and no doubt those feelings within the Omega were magnified each time he took on the mind of a killer.

   Hannibal could help Will discover that hidden potential within himself.

   If memory served the Alpha right, Will had already taken a life, Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

   Hobbs had changed Will in ways that he did not yet realize.  It wouldn't take much of a leap for Will to cultivate those feelings and allow himself the power that taking another life offered.

   To confirm the kill, Hannibal opened up Will’s file, a document of text illuminated the tablet screen.

   Maroon eyes searched with interest.   

_Name: William Sharon Graham_

_Birthdate: 6/29/76_

_Residence: Wolf Trap, Virginia._

_Family Background:_

_Father, Elijah Graham; deceased_

_Mother, Marlene Johnson;  UNKNOWN_

_Known living relatives: Aunt, Meredith Landry, Louisiana_

_Medical History:_

_Duration of Suppression Abuse: approx. 6/X/1995 to 11/28/14._

_Admitted to John Hopkins Hospital on 11/28/14 by Ms. Alana Bloom_

_Diagnosed with encephalitis on 12/1/14_

_Discharged from John Hopkins Hospital on 12/11/14._

_Employment/ Education History:_

_New Orleans Police Department, Detective, 3/14/96 to 8/09/98_

_George Washington University, Forensic Science Degree, 9/2/98 to 5/15/05_

_Virginia Department of Forensic Science, Forensic Specialist, 7/13/05 to 5/15/09_

_Quantico FBI Academy, Teacher, 8/1/09 to present(suspended indefinitely)_

   Hannibal’s mind rolled over the new information, while Will’s file was remarkably bare compared to others he’d seen, the document still shed some light on the Omega, including some connection to Alana Bloom which he could play in his favor, but mostly contained no information of significant interest. Nothing on Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Nothing on Abigail Hobbs.

   The Alpha supposed it didn’t matter as much, he was aware of Will’s relationship with the Hobbs’ and he concluded further insight would reveal itself, one way or another.

   Hannibal leaned back, allowing his mind to roll across the next several days to the accumulation of the Exchange and the day he’d bring Will home to Baltimore.

   He navigated the website for a second or two before requesting a time slot for visitation tomorrow.

_Hopefully dear Will will not disappoint._

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment any spelling errors! Thank you!:) 
> 
> Come say "Hi" or send me a prompt (I'll try to fill it if I can! I don't want my writing skills to get too rusty)!:)  
> ~ http://captainshiboo.tumblr.com/


	6. Schism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is dumb. So little time for writing OMB&M. 
> 
> Hope this chapter can keep you guys for a few months.

_I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them tumble down._

_No fault, none to blame, it doesn't mean I don't desire to_

_point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over._

_To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication._

* * *

    Will’s first meet-n-greet came at 10 AM, right after breakfast. He was escorted to a room only slightly bigger than the one he’d been assigned to yesterday. A large window illuminated the room and the oak table at its center. A guard forced him down into one of the chairs then moved to stand by the door. After 15 minutes of a ticking clock, a familiar petite women with kitten heels walked in, starbucks cup in hand. He drew his head back slightly, repulsed by her scent.

    The women was clearly an abuser of the Macy’s perfume counter.

    She strode across the floor and gingerly placed herself at the oak table across from Will.

    She smiled a cat’s smile with coffee-stained teeth, and pushed her auburn hair over her shoulder. Her body was open, she was stretched forward in her seat, forcing her scent into Will’s arena. _A display of dominance._

    Ignoring the social graces of formal introduction, she allowed her eyes to search Will’s face instead.

    “You know,” she began, “It’s not everyday that I come across a male Omega- especially as one as old as yourself.”   

    “I-” Will started, but was quickly interrupted.

    “You’re rather _exotic_ , but not too _exotic_ if you know what I mean. So, tell me about yourself babe, make me want you,” she spewed.

    Will felt angry, he wished he could get up and leave, but the guard at the door easily had 6 inches on him. Will loathed this Alpha's approach, though it was not uncommon to expect Omegas to beg for selection- to display their obedience and worth.

    Hot fury coursed through his veins and his fists trembled beneath the table. Will refused to look at her- he refused to see- to feel her desire and misguided self-entitlement.  

    The women began to hum, awaiting a reply. Reluctantly he drew his eyes up to meet hers.

    The Alpha expected pleading, something Will would not give her. Rather he would pay her back in the only currency she’d understand.

    A small cheshire grin found its way onto his features and he leaned forward to rest his elbows upon the table. She kept firm despite the counter power-display. The superiority he experienced over her in that moment made him feel more control and certainty than he had in quite a while. A blooming confidence in movement and tongue.

    Even though the Alpha across from him was not familiar with failure, he knew he would not lose today.

    “You don’t want a mate that thinks about killing people for a living,” Will smiled cruelly as he spoke- recalling the little one-liner he had spewed at Freddie Lounds. 

    The women was visually taken back. She cleared her throat then, attempting to regain some sense of composure, “Excuse me?”

    Will allowed the grin spread further across his face and leaned back in his chair, relaxed. He no longer felt a need to display his power, for he knew now, with her simple question, that he had caught her woefully unprepared and the cards were set. Will now only had to put them into play.

    “I am _exotic_. I’m worth something- worth much more than what you have to offer. You’re just a small pitiful thing trying to make itself appear a giant.”

    The Alpha women swiftly left the room angered, with tears of frustration and embarrassment seeming down her full cheeks.

_Must have hit a hard note._

    He felt horrible, confined, and a hatred, a deep burning he hadn't really felt since he was a younger man. There was no pleasure in being cruel. He was frightened to be honest. Cruelty as a defense mechanism. Will was not blind to his own actions. He felt the harsh words and crude nature  of the Alpha empty from his body, but just as he had felt her vanity, he now felt her shame. A shame that paired with his own.

   He noticed that the guard at the door was somewhat disturbed.

***

    After lunch he met a second Alpha. A tall man build of lean muscle sat across from Will. The Alpha introduced himself with no modesty, “I’m Doctor Anthony Winslow; Harvard graduate, psychologist, card carrying member of Mensa International.”

    Dr. Winslow stretched his hand in greeting-

    “No physical contact!” The guard hollered from his position at the door.

   The Alpha offered a sincere smile to the guard but his long face and hollow cheeks conveyed a look much more sinister. Dr. Winslow allowed his arm to rest on the tabletop, although was still clearly abuzz with energy- burning with the desire to reach out and _touch_.

    Will could see he man before him possessed a wicked intelligence and, although conveyed a kind outward demeanor, had an abrasive appetite for knowledge.

    “I’m Will Graham: former teacher, fisherman, dog-owner,” he replied lamely

    Will decided Dr.Winslow was much like an opportunistic virus- invading when a host is vulnerable. And whether Will liked to admit it or not, he was _vulnerable_.

    However the Omega was firm in his resolve and kept the conversation solely on topics involving the weather for the remainder of the visit.

 *******

    The rest of the afternoon included a meeting with a surprisingly tender-hearted Alpha named Leslie who expressed the desire to retire from competitive gymnastics and for a low maintenance Omega to settle down with. Will, rather kindly, informed Leslie that he wouldn't be an ideal for her- that she shouldn't be wasting her time on on someone like himself. Leslie seemed somewhat disappointed, but smiled warmly when Will recommend James, the eager Omega he’d met on the bus to the Philadelphia two days prior.

   Next Will encountered an Alpha native to one of the Islands of Southeast Asia, from which island though Will could not tell. The air was horribly stiff around the two, and Will's discomfort was magnified by the fact the Alpha spoke no words, but simply stared and breathed deeply for the 30-minutes duration. Will went fishing for 29 minutes.

   Will's last meeting of the evening was with the peculiar Alpha he'd seen yesterday. The man was in an arguably uglier suit today however.

   Upon his entry into the room Will could see that he carried himself well, not overbearing. The man was fully aware of his power (not threatened whatsoever by the other Alphas at the Exchange) and therefore did not need to prove it with petty posturing. Although that is not to say the Alpha didn't allow his earthy scent to flow freely- he still wanted Will to be aware of who was dominant.

    The man unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat. A small smile plastered on his lips, one that did not quick reach his eyes. Will looked off towards the black rim of his glasses, avoiding the gaze of the well dressed Alpha.

    “Not fond of eye contact, are you?” he asked the Omega with a rich accent.

    Will felt his jaw tighten and his fingers fidget beneath the table, “Eyes are distracting you see too much, you don’t see enough. And-And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, _“Oh, those whites are really white”_ , or, _“He must have hepatitis”_ , or, _“Oh, is that a burst “vein?”_ So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible,” Will countered in annoyance.

    “I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.”

    “What am I? Your prospective mate or your patient?" Will asked, visibly taken back at the display of insight. _That couldn't be on file._

    Hannibal leaned back in his seat a bit, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands together atop his thigh, “Excuse me, Will. I’m Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Several months ago Agent Crawford requested I construct a psychological profile of you. While I declined, observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.

    “Please, don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed….” The name Hannibal Lecter was a vaguely familiar to him. Will thought Jack had once showed him a article on social exclusion authored by the man across from him. The Omega did not feel it necessary to bring it up though, there was no need to boost the Alpha’s confidence up further than where is was already perched atop a mountain.   

    The Alpha could feel Will’s unease roll of his body in waves. Hannibal had pushed, and the Omega had pushed back. _Promising_.  

    As thoughts of the empathetic brunette moseying around his kitchen island and that mop of curls sprawled against his silken bed sheets began to blossom in warm tones and smooth brush strokes, the Alpha several matters needed to be tended to before he could actualize his vision and open a place for Will in his world.

    “See you soon, Will,” Hannibal spoke smoothly as he moved to leave, re-buttoning his suit jacket as he left in a spell of his own whimsy.

    Will did not turn to watch him go. A deep pressure in his guts and one against his brain started to swell within him... And Will concluded that the Alpha was dangerous. Although psychiatrists generally instilled that type of fear within Will. Maybe Will was just being cautious. Maybe what Will  _saw_ from the Alpha was influenced by the tremendous amount of stress that overwhelmed him. Maybe Will _saw_   the Alpha with clarity

    Will turned to the guard stationed at the door, “Could I have some aspirin?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment spelling errors!:)
> 
> http://captainshiboo.tumblr.com/


	7. Echos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long hiatus, this story doesn't speak to me like it once did. I'll finish it though, but it will probably take quite a while more. Sorry guys, but I really do appreciate you guys reading!:)

_My biggest fear will be the rescue of me_

_Strange how it turns out that way_

_Could you show me dear... Something I've not seen?_

_Something infinitely interesting_

* * *

 

    Will spent the next three days contained in his tiny room. No other Alphas showed interest other than the five that visited with him on the 12th. He couldn't decide if he was more relieved or concerned. Of those five, he knew with certainty that only three would actually consider Will a _worthy Omega_ : The odd Asian man whose name Will could not recall (probably since the Alpha had failed to introduce himself), the pompous Doctor Anthony Winslow, and of course Doctor Hannibal Lecter-the Alpha who looked and saw a glimpse of the real Will Graham. One to break the back of a stubborn rouge and the other two to dissect an awfully empathetic mind.

   Will attempted to keep his thoughts off the Exchange and dulled by watching those acid-trip cartoons, or working into a sweat with some pushups, situps, and jumping jacks (just because he was an Omega that didn't mean he wanted to be weak and lean like they were often preserved to be), or at one point attempting to make some sort of blanket fort using his bedding and the merger furniture found around the room. However the majority of the time was spent slumped over against the wall, just fishing.   

   The night of the 15th, at 7:30, his television screen suddenly shifted to white with bold black text scrolling across that read, **“The Alpha bachelors have finalized their pledge to that special Omega that caught his or her eye. Tomorrow will be a day of rest for all, for Omegas to calm their excitement and Alphas to prepare for battle starting the 17th. Visitation may be permitted with special permission from the Exchange Directors. The following names are the Alphas who will be battling for your name. Goodnight Omegan guests.”**

   The white screen lingered for a few moments. Will thought optimistically that no Alpha had pledged for him. He thought maybe he’d be released from the Exchange and sent to one of those pathetic excuses for a local battle- where procedure was extremely lax and Omegas often slipped through the cracks in the faulty system.    

   Any relief building inside Will was quickly diminished as two bold names appeared on screen. **Anthony Winslow and Hannibal Lecter.**

   Forget aspirin, in that moment all Will wanted as some whiskey.

***

   The next morning Will took one of the longest showers of his life. With the desire to wash away the sinking anxiety, he left the faucet on until the water ran cold. He knew he’d had a nightmare the night before, but he couldn’t recall its content, only brief flickers of shadow and the sound of scuffling remained from the dreadful dream.

   On this day Will felt arguably worse than he had the day he woke up at John Hopkins with Alana by his side.

   He hated waiting just as much as he hated what was to come.

   The constant threat of the loss of freedom and integrity came bearing down on Will’s shoulders every time he thought of Dr.Lecter or Dr.Winslow. The Omega tried to pull his thoughts elsewhere but such a task was becoming difficult. The cartoons he started watching had already become dull and predictable, and the fish weren’t biting as much as they used to. Will preoccupied his mind with little fantasies… Of his Alpha bachelors, by some miracle, both succumbing to their wounds from battle. Of being sent back to Virginia where he could escape it all. Of taking his dogs and residing in a cabin in northern Canada, or a shack on the Mexican coast, or sailing along the Virgin Islands.

   Will then considered how improbable his imaginings where and thought of which was the lesser of two evils...Lecter or Winslow. Of course the cycle would continue as Will felt panic rise within him just at the thought of the Alphas and took to his daydreams once more.

***

   Later that evening Will was ushered from his own personal cell and escorted to the room he had first met with his potential mates. Will could smell the Alpha before the Beta guard even opened the door. It made Will’s skin crawl.

   Hannibal Lecter sat comfortably in his light blue three piece suit with a cream tie and matching pocket square. Not the ugliest suit he'd seen from the psychiatrist. The man himself was clearly pleased with Will’s arrival as he offered a small smile in greeting.

   Sitting across the table, Will felt the same unease he had during his previous encounters with the Alpha. His mind sent out _fight or flight_ signals. He was on edge. His hands shook, so he kept them under the table. Alphas usually induced this type of reaction within Will.

   “Good Evening, Will. I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you’ll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly,” Hannibal began with ease.

   “Just keep it formal,” answered Will

   “Or we could socialize, like adults. God forbid we become friendly.”

   “I don’t really have a choice at this point, do I, Dr. Lecter?” the Omega retorted with bitterness.

   Hannibal hummed for a moment, as if in thought, but words fell from his lips effortlessly, “There is no denying your disdain for this place...What kind of problems does the Exchange carry?”

   “Uh, there is a few,” Will offered with a perverted smile while he rubbed a hand across his stubble. The pitiful situation the Omega found himself in was nearly laughable.  

   “You ever have any problems, Will?” the Alpha asked, tone taking on more serious notes.

   “No.”

   The corner’s of Hannibal’s mouth turned up slightly, clearly finding humor in Will’s defiance, “Of course you don’t. You and I are just alike problem-free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about.”

   “Just alike aren't the words I’d use. We come from different worlds.”

   “You say that with confidence and yet you know little about me... I’d like to think we share similar worldviews.”

   “I just don’t find you that interesting.”

   “You will.”

***

   The next three days went past uneventfully as Will waited for the battle between Lecter and Winslow on the 20th.

   Will tried the cartoons again, with no success, and switched over to one of the major news outlets, somewhat curious about the coverage of the Exchange. Some battles have lasted 5 minutes while others hours.

   “Ratings are reaching highs never imagined!” one reporter claimed.

  The battles were brutal, and the world was just eating it up.

  As the duals continued Will could hear some cheers, but mostly groans in anguish, as fellow rouge Omegas watched from just down the hall as their potential mates battled to the death.

   Will watched until he came across a match between a toned and tan Alpha, Sherri, who stood only about 5’2, and a rather slender individual named David. Will shut of the TV just a moment before Sherri gouged out David’s eyes with fingers perfectly manicured.

   The Omega thought of his visit with Lecter and wondered if you’d see the strange Alpha again before his battle.

   Will wouldn't admit he felt a pinch of disappointment during each of those three days when he wasn’t dragged from him room to meet the Alpha.

   Will did admit that he was lonely.

***

   Will stalked silently through the forest near his home, the full moon illuminating his form. Although the crunch of thick snow beneath his feet was unavoidable, he kept his movements slow and shotgun in position.

   What Will searched for he did not know. But the fact remained, keep going or be killed. This manifested itself within him and any question of what or why did not matter.

  Will wandered the forest for what felt like days but the sun never rose, a quest of wind never cut through the cold air, and the Omega never heard a sound aside from his steady steps and gentle breath.

   After what felt like an eternity Will came across a cabin. The structure was familiar to him. In that moment every step weighed down upon Will and exhaust drained him. And he noticed his body shook from the cold and his fingers had gone numb. As he approached the cabin and gently opened the door slow, he attempted to limit the echo it caused through the trees. He didn't want to be found. Not yet.

   Will was struck with confusion as the cabin contained not a workbench and taxidermy trinkets as he had expected, but rather floral wallpaper and a single empty bed- a room similar to that of the Port Haven Psychiatric Facility.

   He made his way upstairs where backless enveloped the space but the grand antler rack was bright. With Will’s approach he reached out to feel its points. The structure radiated warmth as if living… As if blood pulsed beneath the surface.  

   A shift in the wooden floor boards drew Will quickly around towards the sound, and before him stood Abigail, her features contorted in a profound sadness Will had never seen from her. The silence shared between the two was brief. Will’s shotgun rested forgotten at his side. He reached out to Abigail just as she gave a rousing shove with superhuman strength that sent Will backwards onto the grand antlers. Sharp bone ripped through flesh as a sherring white pain burst through the Omega.

   Will woke with a scream perched in the back of his throat. Panic rose in him as he momentarily forgot he was not in Wolf Trap but rather at the Exchange in Philadelphia. The past week's events came in a rush to quiet the alarms ringing in his mind.

   He noted his drenched bed sheets, and grumbled as he pulled them from his bed. He grabbed the sole towel the Exchange provided and lay in over himself, hoping for just a few more hours of sleep.

   Tomorrow was going to be a big day.  

***

   The 20th signaled the day in which Will Graham's fate would be decided. A simple battle determined who he would be leaving with the next day. Hannibal Lecter or Anthony Winslow. Will loathed the thought as he rolled out of bed.

   Soon after waking Will found himself hauled out of his room, with little time to dress and absolutely no time to shower away last night’s sweat.

   Despite the sleepy haze, Will had a fair idea of where he was being dragged off to. He couldn’t say that he was surprised when he was brought before a familiar door with a familiar Alpha scent filling the air.

   Hannibal sat fitted out in yet another three piece suit suit, as Will had come to expect from the man. However, Will admitted it was entirely odd considering the Alpha needed to fight in just a few short hours. It was rather idiotic in the Omega’s opinion... Hannibal was wasting time here with Will, when any sensible competitor would be preparing.

   As Will sat across from Hannibal, despite how groggy and exhausted he was, he couldn't help but notice how impeccable Hannibal looked. Not a hair out of place and no nervousness to be detected.

   “Good morning, Will. I know this maybe in slight violation of Exchange rules, but I have something I’d like to give you,” Hannibal greeted while he placed a black velvet box onto the table before Will.

   “It is inappropriate to give gifts before the battle…” Will recalled. He made no move to grab for the gift. It made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

   “It makes little difference should you receive this today or after the Exchange. And I’d like you to have it now.”

   “Are you afraid that you might not get the chance otherwise?” replied the Omega, crossing his arms as a small grin played on his lips.

   “I intend to win,”

   “Of course you intend to win, one going in expecting the worst would seemingly be more likely to lose.”

   “Do you believe in the law of attraction, Will?”

   “Do you?”

   “The law states that good will come to optimists, and bad to pessimists. In your case it appears the rejection of your nature and the world around you has led you to this moment. Perhaps you could have been saved from these troubles that plague you had you seen the beauty in your life,” Hannibal explained with a glint in his normally empty eyes. Although the Alpha made somewhat valid points, Will rejected them just the same. There was no other choice for Will other to tread this very path. And he treaded as long as he could.  

   Will finally replied at Hannibal pointedly, “What little beauty there is to be seen.”

***

   Back in his room Will found himself turning the gift over in his hand. The Alpha had convinced him to take it with him, despite his protests.

   “Curiosity killed the cat,” Will said aloud to no one in particular. _But satisfaction brought it back...fuck it…_

   Will reluctantly opened the box to reveal a classical style watch tucked within. Tired fingers ran over the black leather strap and white gold casing, as he examined the dial that was set with twelve tiny amethyst gems.

   While Will never really worried much about aesthetics, he had to admit that the watch was striking. Understated yet elegant.

   However he recognized the function of the gift- to demonstrate both Hannibal Lecter's wealth and the claim he has made on Will.  

***

   The television flashed on and showed a dimly lit arena, with a spotlight illuminating the center of the ring. A door on each side of the area was pulled open. Behind each stood an Alpha. Hannibal Lecter and Anthony Winslow. No shirts, no shoes. Small details jumped out at Will from the tiny screen. The Omega noted Hannibal's broad chest and shoulders with long legs that spoke of power and agility. Regardless of his age, he was in fair shape. The Alpha’s breath was claim and stance confident. And almost elegant. In contrast was Anthony, tall and build of lean muscle. Will could tell he was fast and had high endurance.

   He catalogued these details and pondered the possibilities, imaging the outcome based on what Will saw from the Alphas.

   But he wouldn't have to wait much longer as a loud voice boomed through the television speakers, “From the east corridor enter Hannibal Lecter of Baltimore, Maryland. From the west corridor enter Anthony Winslow of Seattle, Washington. On behalf of the Exchange, the best of luck to both!”

   A buzzer of equal volume rang out, signaling the start of the battle.

   Hannibal took modest steps as Anthony ran forward with ferocity. Two different approaches. One for the conservation of vital energy. The other a powerful burst in an attempt to end the battle with a quick succession of savage blows.

   The right hook Anthony logged at Hannibal was blocked, with only minor difficulty, as the older Alpha took the opportunity to force his palm up at Anthony's nose-breaking it. He staggered back while attempting to halt the bleeding, trying to ignore the pain with a grimace. However, Hannibal gave the other little time to recover as he lunged forward.

   Realization seemed to strike both Will and Anthony- at close proximity Hannibal flourished. Anthony had made a critical error.

   The two Alphas delivered punches, kicks, and gaps to one another, but it became apparent they were not so evenly matched as first thought.

   In the blink of an eye, Hannibal had Anthony on the ground, with his hands around his throat. Will considered that perhaps Hannibal would choke Anthony to death while the other would attempt to pry himself free and sputter out gasps for oxygen. But that would be inelegant. Messy.

   And as the thought occurred to Will, a small snap sounded through the arena, as Anthony’s neck was broken.

   Hannibal stood, panting, body glistening with sweat. He no longer gave any regard to the body at his feet.

   A representative of the Exchange ran out to shake the Alpha’s hand and congratulate him on the win as a voice rang out, “Victor; Hannibal Lecter!”     

  Only satisfaction played on Hannibal’s features. This was vastly different from other battles Will had witnessed. There was no remorse, no acknowledgement, nothing other than whimsy and delight.

   Will felt these emotions intensely. When he glanced at Anthony he did not see a defeated competitor, but rather nothing more than a pig.

   The profiler shook... _You’ve done this before, Dr.Lecter..._ Will longed for the emptiness he once felt from the Alpha, but he now only felt a creature, dark and twisted. Consuming.

   He wanted to finally let out that scream. To call Jack, Alana, anyone. But who would listen? What evidence did he have?

   The only thing Will could do was sit and watch his new mate, satisfied and smug, on the TV screen as his fingers ghosted along the amethyst watch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment spelling errors!:)
> 
> http://captainshiboo.tumblr.com/


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